


Second Chance

by GwendolynStacy



Category: Naruto
Genre: And Naruto, Angst, Family Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Gaara Needs a Hug, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, So Does Shikamaru, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 63,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynStacy/pseuds/GwendolynStacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shikamaru is back, war flashbacks and everything. But no matter how much foreknowledge he has, changing the future is not as easy as he thought. His Hokage being set back to a snot nosed brat that reacts bewildered to any form of affection does not help. At all.</p><p>Meanwhile, Gaara is thrown back to being avoided and feared, while being tormented by a voice urging him to kill every step that he takes. He really needs someone to fix the seal this time around...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

“-don't know, I just found him like this!”

“Just like this? Sleeping?”

“I told you, I don't know! Can he? I mean, he didn’t sleep before, did he?”

Gaara couldn't help the soft groan escaping him, causing the voices to fall silent immediately. Something about the situation seemed odd, for some reason. There was something, just barely out of reach of awareness, something-

Gaara didn't know what it was, but he wasn't quite ready to follow this train of thought. The voices still weren't talking. They seemed to be waiting. For what? For him to react? To wake up? Why was he sleeping at all?

Gaara frowned, trying to focus on something, anything, that could tell him where he was and how he got there. His thoughts felt sluggish, too slow and scattered to offer him any kind of explanation. Was he under some kind of drug? No, that didn't feel right. Giving up for the moment, Gaara decided to concentrate on the voices once more. They had started talking again.

“-think we should get someone?”

“I don't know.” For a moment it was quiet. “He doesn't seem to be going crazy.”

“Shut up! Don't talk like that, he might hear you!”

Well. Whatever he had expected, it was not an offhand comment about his admittedly questionable mental stability. He hadn't had those in years, not like this.

Gaara felt mildly sick. He was used to people being wary around him, even afraid – it was to be expected, with his position as head of one of the five big countries. Not to mention the reputation he had gained over the last few years, one of the Alliance's most valued shinobi during the War.

His mind seemed to linger at that thought, eager to dive into territory Gaara was unwilling to even graze just yet. Not here. Not now, where voices were talking about him like he hadn't experienced in years, talking in this quiet, muffled way that told him they didn't want him to hear them, were afraid of him doing so, afraid of him.

It didn't help that they sounded awfully familiar.

“Gaara? Gaara, can you hear me?” The feminine voice was speaking again. She sounded louder this time, though Gaara could tell with a sinking feeling that the speaker was a safe distance away from him, a bit too much to be mistaken as anything but intentional.

“What are you doing?!” It wasn't more than a hiss, from the male speaker this time.

Gaara decided he has had enough.

He opened his eyes, to be met with the semi-darkness of his room, his old room, not his quarters as Kazekage. He briefly let his eyes wander, coming to a halt at the window that allowed the last sun rays to shine through before nightfall. His eyes widened, taking in the sight before him.

He couldn't see much – he’d have to get up to get a better view, one he still remembered from his childhood – but it was enough. Because he could see Suna, his home, his village.

The village he hadn't seen in years, standing and whole, that is.

So much had been lost during the War, so much had been destroyed. And Suna had been the very first of the bigger villages to fall. He hadn't been present himself at the time, instead leading one of their troops on the front lines – to victory, eventually – and had heard about Suna's fall only hours after it was over.

While they had managed to evacuate most of its citizens, it had still hurt.

Gaara shook off the memories forcefully. Not all of them were fond, but Suna was still his home. A home he had lost years ago.

And yet, in this moment, his eyes were telling him otherwise. Genjutsu, was the first thought that struck him, but before he could think of it any longer his eyes finally settled on the two other people occupying the room. With his breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening, Gaara drank in the sight of them.

They looked young, so impossibly young and innocent (a word he would never have thought to use on Temari, who could terrify a grown jōnin on her worst days). If he had to guess, he would estimate their age to be around eight or nine for Kankurō, and one year older for Temari. They were tiny, nothing like his strong, dependable advisers – and self proclaimed bodyguards – they had been. Or would become?

Temari stood just a few steps away from him, watching him with wide eyes. She wore casual clothing, thin enough to be comfortable in Suna's desert sun and her trademark hairstyle, sandy blonde hair held back in four ponytails. A wave of nostalgia rose up in Gaara. His sister had discarded the hairdo after a stray attack nearly burnt off two of the tails, and worn it short after that.

She had fallen, trying to lead what was left of one of their troops to safety.

Losing her had been painful, unbearable nearly, and not because they had lost one of their most talented kunoichi. Temari had been his pillar, always supporting him, always there.

Determined, he shoved all his memories away in the very depths of his mind, sealing them with all emotions he wasn't ready (would never be ready) to face, and shifted to look at the second, even smaller person. Kankurō lingered just behind Temari, with one hand firmly on the door as if to push it open and disappear in just a moment if he had to.

He was missing his make-up (pardon, his war-paint – had he even worn it this early in his childhood? Gaara couldn't remember) and wore similar clothes as his sister, convenient to wear in the desert village that was their home.

Kankurō had died just weeks after Temari did. Blinded by their loss and not able to overcome his grief, Kankurō had charged headfirst into one battle after another. He had wasted no thought to his own safety, not caring, until it killed him as well.

It had been nothing short of suicide, and Gaara knew it. He understood it.

And now they were here, breathing, alive, and Gaara shouldn't feel anything but joy, endless relief to see his siblings again, no matter their age.

If it weren't for the way they looked at him. As he observed his siblings the look in their eyes told him everything he needed to know, filled with caution and worry and horrible, horrible dread. They were afraid of him, afraid of what he might do to them and that was such a distant concept coming from his siblings, Gaara had to take a moment to take it in.

He sat up a little from where he was slumped in one of the armchairs, causing Temari to flinch away from him. It felt like a punch to the gut, felt so, so wrong.

“Erm. Hey Gaara! Are, are you alright?”, his sister asked cheerfully. It sounded so fake Gaara had to suppress a wince. The smile plastered firmly on Temari's face looked more like a grimace and he could see how tense she was, ready to jump into action – probably to flee the room as soon as Gaara made some sort of threatening move.

“I'm fine,” he answered quietly, not trusting his voice to say anything more. He wouldn't have known what else to say anyway.

“Well um. That's great! We'll just, leave you to it then!” Temari's expression hadn't changed from the cheerful, happy tone from before and Gaara hated it.

Of course he recognized it. Temari had spoken to him this way for years, to make sure not to give him a reason to harm her and Kankurō. It wasn't something he wanted to hear from her ever again. He nodded, not wanting to force them to stay any longer when it was obvious how afraid they were.

“Alright then!” Temari flashed him one last, shaky smile before she hurried after Kankurō, who had left without so much as wasting another glance at his brother. Gaara couldn't blame them. He sat back in his chair, took a deep breath and started to organize his thoughts. They still felt all over the place.

He didn't know how he got here, or why he didn't seem more surprised (or suspicious) about the fact that he seemed to be a child again, back when the entire shinobi world wasn't at war (and wasn't it strange how fast he had dismissed the possibility of a genjutsu while it was clearly the most logical explanation?).

He kept his eyes closed, concentrating on the memories creeping just outside his mental awareness. He nearly gasped as they gave in, overwhelmed by their intensity:

_Another battlefield, another of their victories that didn't feel like one-_

_Too many people dead, too many fallen, and wasn't it ironic to fight a war when slowly but certainly there didn't seem to be anyone left to relish a victory-_

_The smell of blood, a burning, burning pain-_

(Gaara winced at that. Had he been injured? It felt bad, could have been lethal even.)

_Next to him, a cough, a husky voice speaking to him in short, determined jolts-_

_Blonde hair, long and messy, normally bright eyes dull and nearly gray, rather than their usual sky blue-_

(Naruto. No one had sunshine colored hair like he did, but what did it mean was he alright?)

_On his other side a second voice, seasoned and calm despite their surroundings-_

(Shikamaru? It had to be, the three of them had been travelling together.)

His memories left him there.

He opened his eyes, and turned to watch the surreal picture that was his home village through the window.

It wasn't much, but he had at least a vague idea of what must have happened last. He had been injured, if the phantom pain in his abdomen and the faint stench of blood he knew couldn't be real were anything to go by. He remembered Naruto and Shikamaru being at his side.

Gaara frowned, trying to make sense of the bits of information his mind could provide him with. Had they been planning? Was that it, was that the reason he wasn't more surprised by his current situation?

It wasn't an easy to believe concept, going back to change everything before it even happened. And yet it didn't feel unbelievable, didn't feel like anything but reality.

Outside in the streets was a family of three, two women each holding the hand of a little girl and swinging her in the air between them. He couldn't hear her laugh from this far away, but it was obvious from her wide smile and the giggles shaking her small frame.

In one of the darker alleys he could see a group of villagers stepping out of what might have been a bar. Less than polite hand gestures were exchanged, and slowly but surely their actions became more violent, pushing and shoving their counterparts and even exchanging punches.

Gaara's smile vanished quickly. He didn't like conflict, even if it was as meaningless as a disagreement among drunkards. Too easy could a harmless argument get out of hand, too important was it in dire situations to work together and he wanted them to stop to vanish to disappear in a cloud of sand never to be seen again-

He snapped away from the window, eyes wide and heart beating several paces to fast.

Where had that come from?

It wasn't like him to overreact to a simple argument he wasn't even part of, so why had he reacted this badly?

He focused, concentrating solely on himself and tuning out anything else.

He was met with a voice, distant and nearly forgotten, accompanied by the feeling of agitation, rage and bloodlust, a voice asking him to act, to kill-

His eyes snapped open, unfocused, and no, it couldn't be, couldn't be true.

But now that he had felt it once, the presence in his mind was unmistakable. It had been with him for a great part of his life, had cheated him of his childhood, had changed him to a bloodthirsty, unstable monster.

He knew now that most of the demon's insanity had been triggered by the seal, incomplete and doing more harm than good, influencing the demon (and, as a result, his host).

It was knowledge that didn't help him much at the moment.

He was back, in his old body, with his old seal and a voice in the back of his head whispering to him, driving him on edge.

All of a sudden it felt quite appealing to find whoever had had the idea of time jumping and make them Shukaku's very first human sacrifice.

 

* * *

 

When Shikamaru woke up it was very much not to the sound he remembered losing consciousness to – which, while slightly unsettling, was not half as unwelcome as it could have been.

He kept his eyes closed and groaned at the stiffness of his limbs. He didn't want to think back to what caused it and decided instead to simply enjoy the fact that he didn't seem to be in any kind of agonizing pain at the moment.

Sending out his senses, and not discerning any danger in his near surroundings, he settled down and thought back.

_Wasteland for what seemed like miles around them, silence, save for the two other people with him. A soft voice, speaking with him quietly but determined – no, discussing, arguing with him –, a second presence next to them, strained words and rattled breathing and horrible, wet coughs-_

“Naruto!”

Eyes snapping open, Shikamaru realized what it meant to not hear his friend anymore, what the unavoidable consequence was of him not speaking, not breathing.

He leaped up, looking around him frantically and almost desperately stretching his perception as far as he could, searching for his Hokage, his friend, and hoping, begging him to be alright.

“What-?” Shikamaru frowned.

No Naruto lying next to him (bleeding and gasping but alive), no Gaara in front of him, breathing heavily and just barely keeping upright (with a wound he suspected was much worse than his friend admitted), discussing their options before time ran out – not that there was much they could do.

He was alone.

Shikamaru took in his surroundings and had to muffle a gasp. He recognized the place immediately. Of course he did.

“You've got to be kidding,” he muttered, to no one but himself.

He was standing on a wide field of grass, right next to a group of trees and the curve of a narrow river a few meters in front of him – one of the training grounds of Konoha.

He couldn't remember which one it was – it had been a long time since he even set foot in his home village – but he could remember how much time he'd spent here as a child. It wasn't one of the regularly used grounds, thus making it one of his favorite places to, well, do nothing all day.

Recovering from the shock of seeing the place of his childhood again, Shikamaru settled back down.

Now a bit calmer, he could actually concentrate on his thoughts and the conversation he had had before became a lot more clear.

They had argued, he recalled, discussing (and dismissing) options, searching for a solution, some kind of plan, anything except the insane scenario they had planned for countless months that they had been on the run.

The suggestion had come from Naruto – no surprises there – as nothing more but an innocent remark none of them had taken seriously at the time. He had noted how far he had mastered the seals and techniques developed by his mother's clan, laborious collected by them month after month in form of nearly illegible, incomplete scrolls, the notes of a clan full of geniuses, seal masters like there hadn't been anyone else.

Winning the War had not been a common thought at the time, there simply weren't enough of them left. Traveling in small groups, ensuring they weren't easy to track down and constantly on the move, their life had seemed an endless sequence of hiding, fleeing and desperately searching for a solution, anything they hadn't thought of in the months, years that their lives just as well might have come to an end.

On the off chance of completing the (not even) half developed technique Naruto had managed to dig out from who knew where, they had tracked down any remaining clues that may have been left by Naruto's clan members.

It was at that time that Shikamaru thought – not for the first time – how little credit Naruto was given for his intellect. He may not have been a genius in the straightforward definition most shinobi would use. But he had also completed the technique left behind by his father, a task the Fourth Hokage himself had not managed, when he had been 13 years old. Not only that, he had been able to use any techniques in this unique and creative way of his, finding new ways to use them to their fullest (just as he did with his trademark shadow clones). It was a shame how long it had taken for people to acknowledge his talent.

And he had done it, in the end.

Naruto had one day announced (ecstatic and nearly vibrating with excitement) that he had completed the strange space-time jutsu he had mentioned to them now and again over the course of the last months. The technique that was the reason why they hadn't moved their hideout for far too long. With that cheerful smile of his he had explained that they could change everything, prevent their friends' death (and there had been many, so many), the fall of the big countries, everything.

Then they were found. There had been no warning, they hadn't known the enemy was onto them, though they should have been smarter than to stay in one place for so long.

But Naruto had needed time. He wasn't able to accomplish anything with them on the run with no end, so they settled down, let him train and, as it turned out, complete the technique.

But with the enemy on their heels, the fight starting without any prior warning, there had been no time to make plans.

It had ended with him, Gaara and Naruto just barely subduing their opponents, Naruto choking on his own blood before them, Gaara not admitting to anything, though Shikamaru strongly suspected a serious injury to the stomach. Both of them had been desperately trying to come up with some kind of way out, because what Naruto was trying to explain to them sounded so impossible, so final.

In the end they had listened, of course – trying (and failing) to ignore how it got harder and harder for him to breathe, how the life drained out of their friend right in front of their eyes.

Shikamaru let his eyes wander, taking in the sight before him. This particular training ground was near the border, giving him a clear view of the Hokage Monument, without any buildings blocking the sight. He looked up at the four Kage, gaze lingering just a little longer on the Fourth Hokage.

The sun was already starting to go down, casting her last daylight over the village he loved.

Eventually, Shikamaru got up from his seat in the grass, stretching and sighing tiredly. He didn't want to think about everything that was to come, didn't want to think about who he would have to meet again.

His features softened a little. At least he wouldn't have to face all of it alone. If he arrived in the past unharmed that meant two other people had come with him, two of the best people Shikamaru had ever known and definitely the kind of people he would wish for on a mission like this (because that's what it was, a mission).

His thoughts trailed off to Suna briefly, hoping Gaara was alright. It was regrettable, but he would have to hold out on his own for a while – after all, it wasn't like any of them could simply walk out of their village for a visit.

But Gaara was smart – he hadn't become Kazekage at 16 for nothing – and Shikamaru was certain he would be fine until they found a way to contact each other. He sighed, idly wishing they would have had more time to plan. He barely had anything to go by, would have to improvise for the moment.

Instead he thought of the second person he couldn't wait to check up on. Even though Shikamaru doubted that he would have any injury back from the future – he himself didn't have a scratch – he simply couldn't help but worry. It wasn't hard to guess why, he supposed. Naruto had been bleeding out on the floor the last time they saw each other. Besides, the sooner they started to discuss the situation the better.

Mind made up, hands in his pockets and trying to look as carefree as possible, Shikamaru started looking for the man who would one day, once again, become his Hokage.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first time writing (and in English, too!), so please leave me a comment to let me know what I can do better, or what you liked so far!  
> I already posted this fic on fanfiction.net, so you can find me there too under the same name.  
> Again, thanks for reading, and please leave a review!
> 
> PS.: Visit me on tumblr as 'xxgwenstacyxx'!


	2. Chapter 2

Meditation turned out to be a much bigger challenge than it had any right to be.

After all, it was the first time in years that Gaara had to share his mind with another being, and it had taken him far longer than he'd like to finally subdue the demon and repress the colorful emotions reeking from it.

He could still sense the bijū's thoughts raging in the back of his mind, but it was bearable. Shukaku hadn't been pleased with being shoved into a mental corner, and though Gaara had tried talking to him, he had been too enraged and unreasonable, leaking killing intent everywhere.

He could only guess what the ANBU stationed above his window had thought.

Gaara sighed, got up from his armchair and started to pace. His head throbbed painfully, not letting him forget about his companion for even a second. He already had trouble controlling Shukaku in the silence of his room, how would he react to other people?

True, he hadn't immediately charged at his sibling sprouting monstrous sand-colored limbs, though that may have been more due to shock than anything. Not for the first time he wished Naruto, Shikamaru and he could have arrived together. He wanted nothing more than to see them again safe and sound, to make Naruto fix his seal first and foremost, and to start making plans as soon as possible.

Actually, he wanted nothing more than to see his friends, period. He just couldn't forget the last time he had seen Naruto, bleeding out and gasping for air and trying so hard to keep going, to give them a chance, as slim as it was, to change things.

He was hit with another wave of emotion – frustration this time, frustration for not being able to get past Gaara's mental defenses. The demon couldn't know, after all, that he was dealing with Suna's Fifth Kazekage and no longer a simple, helpless seven-year-old.

Still, the sooner Naruto gave him an actual seal the better. He wouldn't mind trying to make friends with Shukaku; Naruto had done it, so why shouldn't he? The Ichibi was just as reluctant in being sealed into a human as Gaara was in serving as host – it would be easier for both of them to simply get along.

Fighting down another wave of malice, he turned and kept walking.

 

* * *

 

Gaara was torn out of his musings by a soft knock on the door and looked up, startled.

He hadn't expected anyone checking up on him, though it was probably just some poor shinobi ordered to find out whether Suna's jinchūriki had recovered from whatever demonic episode he had shown earlier. No doubt had the Kazekage heard of it by now (and wow, that was one reunion he was not looking forward to).

The sun had nearly sunken below the cliffs by now, dipping Suna in fiery shades of sandy orange and red, making it seem like the entire village was ablaze. In Suna, most villagers would be seen outside in the morning and evening, avoiding the seething midday sun. Exceptions were the shinobi on duty who were long since resistant to such temperatures.

It was similar for Gaara of course, though partially for other reasons. Sharing his body with a sand demon did have its advantages, after all.

„Come in.“ His voice was quiet, just barely over a whisper, but the door swung open nevertheless. Gaara would have taken a step back and gasped, had he had any less control over his body.

„Y- Yashamaru?” Gaara thanked the Sage of the Six Paths personally for just how shy and withdrawn he had been as a child. The stutter somehow didn't sound out of place at all and all the surprise, the pure shock was lost, due to the fact that his voice was only barely audible as it was.

Because standing before him, still one step outside his room, was his uncle, walking and breathing and spotting that tiny smile of his. Stupid, stupid, he should have known, should have realized, of course his uncle was still alive, of course he would have met him sooner or later-

Yashamaru closed the door behind him and came to a halt just a few steps before Gaara, respectfully keeping his distance.

He just barely tilted his head in greeting. “Gaara-sama, are you alright? I just spoke with your siblings.” His voice was just as calm as he remembered, soothing and just a little too polite. “The Kazekage has asked me to check up on you myself.”

Gaara looked at his uncle and didn't know what he was supposed to see.

Yashamaru had always kept a certain distance between them. He had talked to him, consoled him at times, but he had never laughed with him like a friend would have, never talked to him like an equal, instead always remaining in his position of a caretaker.

But did he actually care about him? Or was he nothing more than an assignment to him? As child, Gaara had never been able to read people. The only emotions he could always identify were disgust, anger and fear, always fear.

It had changed, like everything had, with Naruto. He had been a shinobi before, but hadn't actually needed some of the typical shinobi skills. Why should he be able to read his counterpart when he could just scare them into giving him what he wanted? Or kill them? He had been creative like that.

Even now, he wasn't as perceptive as other people he knew, but it was enough.

He didn't need more to recognize the well of emotions behind his uncle's eyes, fondness and worry and was that affection? He had known rationally that everything Yashamaru had told him on that night had been a lie, the words of the Kazekage instead of his own, but the doubt had always been there.

It was another matter entirely to actually see it for himself, to see the only person who had ever tried to understand him in his childhood, had shown him kindness, actual kindness, and died in the end because of him.

“Gaara-sama? Gaara-sama, is something wrong?”

Gaara hadn't realized how long he'd zoned out. Yashamaru had taken a step forward, his smile vanished to give way for a small frown. Gaara focused his eyes sternly on the floor, not able to meet his uncle's gaze any second longer.

“I- I'm fine, Yashamaru.” He was too shocked to think of a better excuse and added quickly: “I fell asleep, but it's- I don’t think anything happened. I mean, I don't feel much different.” He felt his uncle's gaze resting upon him, clearly picking up on the not 'much', but apparently deciding to let it go.

“I see.” He looked at Gaara for another moment, then stepped back and asked: “Would you like to skip training tomorrow? It may be better to rest for another-”

“No!”, Gaara blurted out, not waiting for Yashamaru to finish. “I mean,” He stared at his feet, fumbling his fingers nervously on the hem of his shirt. “I feel fine, and I'd like to go train.”

If he was confused with his reaction, Yashamaru didn't let it show. He simply paused, then bowed his head. “Very well then. You will be expected at the usual time.” He shot Gaara one last, thoughtful look, then nodded politely and left his room.

 

* * *

 

Shikamaru was not in a good mood.

The plan had been easy enough, stroll through the village like he didn't have a care in the world, keep his senses on alert and simply wait for Naruto's unique chakra signature to register. He assumed Naruto had arrived wherever his younger counterpart had been at the time, just like he had.

What Shikamaru hadn't realize was what exactly it meant for him to be 'on alert'.

It was early evening by now, the sky showed a multitude of colors and only few people were left on the streets. Most families would be home by now, both from the academy and from work, relaxing and spending time with their loved ones. It was peaceful, as it had been for years.

Konoha was at peace.

Shikamaru certainly wasn't.

Every day he had woken up during the last few years it had been with the knowledge that it could be his last day, could be the day he saw one of his friends for the last time, could be the last day for any of them.

While he knew technically that he wasn't in any danger, his battle instincts, honed by years of experience, told him differently. His muscles were tense, unable to relax in such unfamiliar environment (and wasn't it sad, to perceive one's own home village as foreign) and he had to force himself not to jump everyone who got too close for comfort.

He was glad that there weren't many citizens left on the streets.

Shikamaru simply hadn't thought how difficult it would be, had heavily underestimated just how naturally his battle instincts had grown on him. Right now they were more of a handicap.

He couldn't even use his chakra detection properly. Ignoring the fact that his range was severely limited (he would have to test their bodies’ capacity with Naruto as soon as possible), he also couldn't easily adapt to all the new people surrounding him.

With so many people he didn't know, so many chakra signatures he didn't recognize, he felt simply overwhelmed. His instincts kept telling him to fight, made him feel surrounded, trapped. It was impossible to concentrate, let alone search for a specific person among a sea of threats.

In the end he had to forcefully shut off his perception, otherwise he would have snapped and possibly tackled the next best villager bumping into him.

Had someone asked him to imagine being back in the old days, he would have thought of happiness, euphoria even. He was walking through Konoha, whole and intact, not to mention all the possibilities that had opened to him, all the reunions he would face.

Instead, he felt nothing but insecure and twitchy. And how could his famed intellect be of any help, if it was overwritten by pure paranoia? All things considered he was glad to not have met anybody he knew yet. This right now was difficult, but he could deal with it.

He had successfully averted fatally injuring villagers for talking just a little to loud for his sensitive ears, for raising their voice and sounding just a little too aggressive.

He had barely kept himself from taking out a couple teenagers who had somehow gotten their hands on a few harmless explosive tags from the academy first-years that on second thought didn't even remotely sound like those used in actual battle.

He could do this.

However, he had no idea how he would react to seeing familiar faces again, faces he had possibly last seen cold and unmoving, or worse, with horrible, dead eyes but walking, attacking them.

He had evaded all streets even slightly close to his friends' homes for a reason.

“Huh.” He looked up, noting that his feet had carried him directly in front of the academy. He let his eyes wander over the old building, thinking about his own time at the academy. He hadn't been a good student, that much he remembered. He had been lazy, always avoiding doing any real work, living up to his family name.

Asuma had been the one to eventually recognize his potential, had pushed him to use his intelligence and thus proved how far he could make it.

Shikamaru smirked at the thought. What would Asuma say to him now, knowing that because of him the laziest student of his class had managed to become the Hokage's adviser and Chief Strategist of the Allied Shinobi Forces?

It hit him, then – Asuma was alive. Right now he was somewhere in the village, or possibly on a mission, but alive, safe. In this timeline, Shikamaru hadn't even finished the academy yet, it would be years until Asuma died at Hidan's hand.

But it wouldn’t happen a second time. Shikamaru would make sure of it.

He looked over at the children playing on the academy ground. They were most likely a mix of civilian children and those academy students who would not be able to graduate. They ran around giggling, tagging each other with what looked like cardboard kunai and completely free of care.

Shikamaru tried not to think about how they would have grown up in his time, practicing with real kunai rather than playing with fake ones, participating in a war they had not started. Shikamaru cursed and tore his eyes away. Why couldn't he stop thinking about the past (the future?), why couldn't he let go of the memories?

Apparently they were simply part of him now, Shikamaru thought bitterly. He started walking again, passing the academy. By now the children were being picked up by their parents or siblings to go home for the day.

He briefly wondered if he should head home as well; he was, after all, seven years old at the moment, and his parents surely wouldn't accept his explanation of being a time traveler stuck in his younger body. He tried to imagine how his mother would react-

Shikamaru froze.

He had nearly left the deserted academy grounds, had been about to make his way back when he spotted a figure slumped in the shadow of the academy building, slouched on what looked like an old swing and no, it couldn't be.

But that sunshine colored hair could only belong to one person, and Shikamaru turned, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest-

The slight irritation he felt because Naruto hadn't tried to find him was completely washed away by the joy, the sheer relief upon seeing his friend again.

“Oi, Naruto!”, he yelled, hurrying towards him, smiling. “What are you doing here?” Disbelief colored his words, hadn't Naruto been just as worried as he was? Well, he supposed, he hadn't been the one fatally injured, so Naruto had probably assumed Shikamaru would be fine as well. Still, the bastard would regret it, making Shikamaru worry like this.

Said idiot looked up, seemingly startled, and met Shikamaru's gaze with wide eyes.

“Eh?”, was his intelligent answer, making Shikamaru snort.

“Idiot,” he said, not even trying to hide the fondness in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Naruto blinked, then answered slowly, “Nothin'. Just, swinging?”, in a tone that clearly suggested he thought Shikamaru was insane.

He rolled his eyes, bemused by his friends behavior. “I can see that,” he deadpanned. “But why? Is this where you arrived?”

Naruto leaped off the swing, now at eye level with Shikamaru. “Well, yeah? I guess so, I mean I've been here since class's been over. Iruka-sensei told me yesterday he'd go get ramen with me to bribe me into taking the test today but he had too much to do, which is so unfair because he promised this time, he promised, but he told me we'd go tomorrow 'nstead. Didn't have nothing else to do.” He pouted at that, pausing his flood of words that he somehow managed to get out with a single breath.

Shikamaru stared at him, incredulous, mouth slightly open and eyes wide with shock.

No. No!

Naruto, who didn't seem to notice Shikamaru's state of frozen horror, just happily chatted on, a beaming smile on his face and wildly gesturing. Shikamaru just watched him, dumbstruck and not processing a single word he said.

It couldn't be.

He'd never even thought of the possibility of not all of them making the trip, it had always been either all of them or none. Naruto couldn't have been left behind, he just couldn't! Did this mean Gaara hadn't made it as well? Was Shikamaru completely alone in a time he didn't belong in?

Or...

A horrible thought struck him. Naruto had been injured worse than both of them. Plus, he had been the one to cast the technique, had been the only one able to. Had he used all his remaining chakra to send them back? Had he died in the process, was that why he wasn't here himself?

Maybe he hadn't planned on surviving. The technique could have been similar to the one Chiyo had used to save Gaara in the regard that it could only be used in exchange for the user's life. If this had been the case, Naruto naturally wouldn't have told them. They'd have protested, violently so.

Was that it? Was the old Naruto gone? As the Hokage's right hand, Shikamaru felt like a failure.

His name finally snapped him out of his paralysis.

“-the way, you're Shikamaru, right? Iruka-sensei always complains how you're lazy an' stuff!” Naruto had both arms behind his head in a familiar gesture and his laughter somehow didn't sound spiteful at all, despite his words. He simply blurted out what he was thinking. It was such a Naruto thing to do, Shikamaru had to take a step back. He felt sick.

This was what Naruto had been like before, bright and cheerful and so full of energy.

It wasn't the Naruto he had fought with side by side for years. Wasn't the one he had sworn loyalty to, the one he had known better than himself, had been as close as a brother in the end. Shikamaru couldn't think, couldn't look at young Naruto any longer, this other version of him that was too cheerful and too energetic and innocent and wrong-

“Hey, what's the matter?” Naruto's smile faltered, and he looked at Shikamaru anxiously. “Look, if this is 'bout what I said-”

Shikamaru finally managed to break out of his stupor and took another step back.

“No! No I,” he croaked, his voice faint and wavering. “Look I've- I've gotta, gotta go-” He turned around, just barely keeping himself from stumbling. Had the floor been spinning like this before?

“Wait! Hey, where are you going?” He barely noticed Naruto calling after him.

He all but fled the academy grounds.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I already posted it on ff.net, here's the second chapter early!  
> From now on I'll update both sites at the same time.  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

 

Naruto walked home with his hands thrust in his pockets, shoulders hunched and head lowered, not sure what had gone wrong this time. He shouldn't have bothered, shouldn't think about it and certainly shouldn't feel sorry for himself. He was used to it. Used to all of it.

 

It was always the same. He would try to connect with someone and if they wouldn't scoff at him or simply walk away scowling, they'd answer to his attempts halfheartedly at best and brush him off at the first opportunity. Like some of the children at the academy who were too polite to outright turn him down, but weren't willing to do much else. They would avoid him afterwards, eager to do just what their parents told them to do and stay away from Naruto, away from the troublemaker, the nuisance, the demon brat. He'd heard all of it before.

Weren't parents supposed to be mature and teach their kids to be polite and nice to everyone?

 

That's what it looked like, at least, when Naruto was watching families interact with each other. He always wondered what it must feel like, to be loved unconditionally by someone else, to be cared for and encouraged.

 

But as soon as any adult laid eyes on him, their attitude would change. They'd glare at him, hiss insults and steer their kids away from him as if he had some kind of horrible, contagious disease.

 

At least children only ignored him most of the time, avoided him because that's what their parents told them, what they were supposed to do. Sure, most of them still didn't like him, but they didn't hate him the way their parents did. Naruto squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists tightly at his sides. It just wasn't fair!

 

And today had been different, too. He hadn't been the one to start the conversation, the other boy, Shikamaru, had talked to him.

 

The day hadn't started all that bad, either. Sure, he had probably failed the test pathetically, but that wasn't anything new. After the academy he had played ninja with the other kids who, for a change, let him join without too much complaint. They didn't go out of their way to include him of course, but it was more than he was used to.

 

When one of the children was fetched early their mother didn't even try to dampen her commentary towards him, nor how she reminded her child to stay away from him. That was all it took, a simple reminder just who he was, what everyone thought about him.

 

He hadn't been welcome with the other kids after that.

 

He had stayed anyway, out of the way on the swing next to the academy building, trying to ignore the ugly jealousy building up inside him, trying not to let it get to him. He was good at that, normally.

 

And then, when all of the other kids had left, the other boy had shown up. Shikamaru.

 

Naruto didn't know him well, just barely remembered his name from the times Iruka-sensei had yelled it out exasperated. He wasn't a good student either, just like Naruto, with the difference that Shikamaru didn't care for disturbing the lessons at all. He was simply too lazy to participate, so it seemed.

 

They had never talked, but Naruto didn't have any negative memories of him, so he probably wasn't with the children teasing him.

 

And today he had spoken to him, no, had called his name in delight, smiling.

 

Even though he knew no one else with his name, his first thought had been that he must have mistaken him for someone else. No one called his name like that, no one approached him voluntarily, period. Joy and happiness were not emotions Naruto was familiar with, not addressed to him.

 

Admittedly, the boy's questions had been a bit weird, and he had talked to him like they had known each other for ages. But Naruto wasn't one to dwell too long on details like that.

 

Once he had recovered from his shock he had answered Shikamaru, amazed that someone actually wanted to talk to him, was listening and wanted him to stay around! Soon he had been rambling and although he knew that people tended to get annoyed by it, he couldn't help it. It was a part of him, and unfortunately that included him saying things he should better keep to himself.

 

Naruto kicked the ground before him, furious with himself.

 

He hadn't thought his comment about Shikamaru's behavior in class would be important (he never thought about anything he said, why couldn't he just _think_ ), but apparently it had insulted the other boy enough to change his mind. Maybe he even thought approaching him had been a mistake all along.

 

Naruto couldn't think of anything else he had done, nothing else that could have led to what happened. Was he really that much of an annoyance? That much of a pest?

 

He had always found slight comfort in the fact that people seemed to dislike him as default – as weird as that sounded. It meant they disliked him for their own reasons, for things he couldn't change because he didn't know about them.

 

But now he wasn't so sure.

 

Did Shikamaru's reaction prove that it really was Naruto to blame? What was wrong with him? What made other people hate him like they did, what did he do wrong? Naruto halted, coming to a stop in front of the door to his apartment.

 

It didn't matter, not really. Nothing would change, not until he made people see him, see him for who he really was. And it didn't matter that no one would encourage him to do so.

 

Naruto had made his decision a while ago, had decided that he wouldn't be content with the life he was living at the moment. He promised himself that he would make others acknowledge him, no matter what it took, no matter what he had to do.

 

He would become Hokage, and they'd all see!

 

Finally Naruto unlocked the door and stepped into his empty apartment, determinedly ignoring the longing in his chest.

 

* * *

 

It was only when Shikamaru came close to his family's home that he realized how utterly and completely he had messed up.

 

Even though his old house was only a short walk away from the academy, he had been walking for far longer since he had left Naruto on the academy grounds. He had needed time to think, time to compose himself and to snap out of whatever paralysis he had fallen into after his reunion with Naruto.

 

While he strolled through Konoha's streets the sun had nearly sunken below the edge of the Hokage's monument. The village's streets were dark now, and nearly completely void of people.

 

Ever since he had found out that Naruto, _his_ Naruto, was gone, Shikamaru had dealt with the knowledge the same way he always did, shoving all negative emotions – denial, anger, despair – as far as he could away from him, not letting them impact him any more than they already had.

 

It most definitely wasn't a healthy coping mechanism, but it successfully kept his feelings at bay and allowed him to keep going, no matter what. Of course, it wasn't _really_ coping. He was basically ignoring his issues, pretending to be over them.

 

Shikamaru was good at it, he had to be. He wouldn't have survived the War otherwise.

 

And right now, right here, he couldn't afford to think about himself. He had to think about his mission, think about the future, the future he was going to save.

 

And above all, he had to think about a lonely little boy and how he was going to change his life. Maybe it was selfish to put the well-being of a single child above the world, but as far as he was concerned, saving Naruto _meant_ saving the world. He simply wouldn't be able to pull it off without his Hokage, not even with Gaara's help.

 

And Shikamaru was willing to say goodbye to his friend, the old version of him, if it meant giving the other, younger Naruto a better childhood. He didn't deserve to grow up with his teacher as his only friend until he was twelve a second time.

 

Shikamaru sighed. He was exhausted, not physically, but mentally, the weight on his shoulders growing and growing. He and Gaara were the only ones who knew what was to come, they had to prevent all of it by themselves, without causing even greater trouble with their interference.

 

Shikamaru was tired. So tired.

 

No wonder his mind was a mess.

 

And any moment now, it would only get worse. He didn't think he could prepare himself any better, so he took a deep breath and knocked on the door of his old house.

 

“What a pain.” His voice sounded anxious, not quite enough like his normal, constantly bored self. There was no way he could convince his parents that everything was normal when he couldn't even fool himself. As he heard footsteps coming closer to the door his heart started pounding madly. There was no stopping it. This was it.

 

The door swung open and there, in the doorway stood Yoshino Nara, young and beautiful and _alive._

 

It took Shikamaru all of his training to not gasp in astonishment, break out into tears and bury his mother in a hug. Instead he stood still, not trusting himself to say anything just yet and looked up to her with wide eyes (and how strange it was to be smaller than her – his mother had always been a short woman).

 

He felt himself trembling and could only hope it was too subtle for his mother to pick up. In the short time it had taken him to process the first flood of emotions his mother had taken a step forward, standing before him with her hands on her hips, a frown on her face.

 

“And just what do you think you're doing, young man?”

 

Shikamaru blinked, completely taken aback by her choice of words.

 

Right. His unexpected meeting with Naruto had completely wiped the thought from his mind, but he was seven again. And he had just come home in the dark, far after his curfew and definitely too late for him to use a basic excuse, like he had simply forgotten the time.

 

None of his war experience could have prepared him for this. For the wrath of his mother. Yoshino Nara could make his father, jōnin commander and head of the Nara clan, jump through hoops if she wanted to.

 

Shikamaru took another breath and hoped his voice wouldn't fail him.

 

“Mom–”

 

“Where have you been? Do you know what time it is?!”

 

“Erm. Not exactly?”

 

In this moment his mother could have spit fire better than any Uchiha, Shikamaru was sure of it.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?! What were you thinking, anything could have happened to you–!”

 

His father's voice called over from the kitchen. Shikamaru could barely spot him past the doorway, enough to see him half buried in what could only be some kind of report. “Yoshi, sweetheart, aren't you overreacting a bit? He's not just some civilian kid, you know.”

 

Shikamaru felt a spark of admiration for his father.

 

His mother turned, gaze focused on her husband now. “Did you say something, _sweetheart?_ ”

 

“N-Nothing dear. Just go ahead.”

 

Well. _Thanks, dad_ , Shikamaru thought wryly, and it was nearly enough for him to forget, or at least ignore, the piercing ache in his chest. Nearly. Following a sudden inspiration, he looked straight into his mother's eyes and said, “I'm sorry mom. I had to walk my friend to his house, I couldn't let him go alone.”

 

His mother didn't look at him any less angry, but Shikamaru could see a spark of surprise on her face, followed by confusion. Just as he had predicted. Even though she was angry at him for staying out too long, they lived in peaceful times and it usually wasn't dangerous for a child Shikamaru's age to stay out during the evening.

 

Her frown didn't lessen even a bit, but she lowered her voice. “What do you mean, you had to walk your friend home? Why couldn't he go on his own?”

 

“We forgot the time a bit, it was already getting dark when we started walking. Naruto's afraid to walk alone in the dark 'cause he doesn't know what some of the villagers might do. When no one can see them.”

 

There. He'd done it.

 

His mother's eyes widened, her posture going stiff. From the corner of his eyes, Shikamaru could see his father flinch violently.

 

It was a risk, but so far his parents' reaction had been just as he had assumed they would be. Naturally, no one needed an explanation who Naruto was, and Shikamaru knew for a fact that both of them had known Kushina and Minato personally.

 

Shikamaru felt a bit bad for lying; Naruto had no problem walking around the village alone, and he was fairly sure the villagers had never gotten violent towards him. The remarks and the hateful glances were terrible, yes, but Shikamaru doubted anyone would risk going against the Third Hokage's orders and actually harm the boy.

 

But in this case he had to bet on his parents' natural parental instincts – and on their past friendship with Kushina and Minato. Manipulative as it was, he couldn't imagine them to be indifferent to Minato's and Kushina's son, growing up hated in his own home village, the very same village his parents had given their lives for.

 

Besides, his father had never been the type of parent who told their kids to stay away from Naruto. In fact, he had always encouraged his son to do what he thought was right.

 

His mother swallowed, recovering from her son's remark. “Naruto you say? Did he tell you something? Has something happened to him before?” Footsteps announced his father, by now standing in the doorway of their kitchen, looking at his son attentively.

 

Shikamaru had never loved his parents more than in this moment.

 

“I don't think so. I mean, he didn't tell me about any of them getting violent before. He's just afraid that they change their mind eventually.” After a moment, he added, more quietly: “Not that the insults aren't bad enough.”

 

His father's expression had become unreadable.

 

In front of him his mother had all but lost her threatening posture. Sounding tired, she said: “It's alright, Shikamaru.” Her tone became a bit sharper. “But if this happens even one more time, you're going to get punished. If you'd paid attention to the time you two wouldn't have had to walk home in the dark in the first place!”

 

Shikamaru sighed exaggerated, muttering “What a pain,” under his breath as he walked past his mother to where his room was. Then, changing his mind, he turned around, closed his arms around his mother and murmured: “Love you, Mom.”

 

Leaving her completely taken aback, he walked to his father and did the same with him. “You too, Dad.” Shikamaru could feel him go stiff for a moment, then felt a hand gently ruffling his hair.

 

He let go, and just as he was about to disappear into his room his mother, sounding flustered, called after him. “Wait! Don't you want to eat dinner?”

 

“Not hungry, thanks!”

 

Then he closed the door to his room, and was alone.

 

Shikamaru took a deep breath. So much for his mental discipline. He was supposed to be an elite shinobi, damn it! In his defense, there weren't really protocols about finding yourself stranded in the past, as helpful as they would be right about now.

 

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the weariness he felt. His outburst had been suspicious, he knew as much himself. As jōnin commander, his father was drilled to pay attention to details and Shikamaru knew first hand that these instincts weren't easy to get rid of, even outside of work.

 

Not that anyone would have needed shinobi training to realize how different Shikamaru had acted.

 

Shikamaru hadn't been assigned as Chief Strategist for nothing, though. He had a plan. A vague one, maybe, but a plan nonetheless.

 

With just a bit of luck his parents would take his odd behavior as an aftereffect of witnessing the villager's treatment of Naruto. They would think he was shaken, as the seven-year-old that he was, because a child his age, a friend of his, was being treated the way he was without a reason that he would know of.

 

There were risks, of course. From his parents' point of view he had never even mentioned Naruto before, hadn't given any clue whatsoever that the two of them were friends – or even knew each other.

 

Then again, they might assume that he had watched the other children's parents, and wasn't sure if his own would accept him being friends with the demon brat. Shikamaru frowned at the thought. He was glad that his parents were different, glad that they most likely wouldn't say anything against him befriending Naruto.

 

Not that he would listen if they did, but he preferred it this way.

 

His mouth twitched into a smile and excitement washed away the turmoil of negative thoughts. He was back. He was actually back, had walked through his once destroyed home village, had talked to his formerly dead parents. Would be able to meet all the others again. Was able to save them, this time around.

 

And he would be able to befriend Naruto and try giving him the childhood he deserved. If he even wanted to talk to him after the stunt he pulled at the academy. Shikamaru’s heart sank.

 

He sighed, letting himself slump on his bed in fatigue. He'd only been here for a few hours and already it was starting to wear him off.

 

He couldn't wait to see Gaara again. Even though they had lost the old Naruto, at least they weren't completely on their own. Once they would find a way to contact each other, they would be able to plan out their next steps together.

 

Shikamaru winced, realizing he would have to be the one to tell Gaara about Naruto.

 

As difficult as it would be, Shikamaru hoped they could find a way for him to befriend Naruto earlier this time around. Naruto deserved friends and Shikamaru knew how well the two of them would have gotten along, had they known each other earlier in their life.

 

Suppressing another sigh, he closed his eyes. It wouldn't help him to stay awake brooding the entire night, it would be better to rest and start anew the next day. And maybe, possibly, Shikamaru was ready to meet his old friends again.

 

He smiled, letting memories of his friends lull him to sleep and doing his best to ignore the all too familiar ache that accompanied them.  

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's another chapter!
> 
> Special thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys are awesome! Honestly, thank you so much! What I'd like to know, which point of view do you like best so far? Please leave a review, and let me know what you think!
> 
> ~Gwen


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Gaara spent the morning in his room, testing his abilities in preparation for his training with Baki. It hadn't occurred to him last evening, but maybe his decision to participate had been too rash. After all, with his newly gained memories and experience he couldn't be sure to what level his skills would be impaired.

 

As it turned out, he wouldn't have had to worry too much. Admittedly, his control was a little off – his broken water jug proved as much – but he already managed to improve in the short hours he spent practicing. 

 

While he had kept his chakra control for the most part, he could feel that his younger body couldn't mold chakra nearly as fast and effectively as he was used to. However, being seven years old again would come in handy in this case: The techniques that were expected of him were easy – and even if he wasn’t as precise and quick as he'd wish, for his current level it was probably still a vast improvement.

 

As for his chakra reserves: He could imagine that those would have been the main problem – if he hadn't had a natural chakra reservoir sealed inside him.

 

Most children this age struggled most with their limited chakra; they were unable to use it effectively yet and thus weren't able to perform the easiest tasks before they developed a first understanding for their own capacities.

 

Of course, there were others – like Naruto – who had the opposite problem, and couldn't control the chakra that they had properly.

 

For him neither of those would be an issue.

 

Not only did Shukaku provide him with an immense amount of chakra, but his sand manipulation came almost naturally to him. With a bit of time to adapt to his younger body Gaara was positive that he would be able to use most of his favored techniques nearly effortlessly – as long as he didn't overdo it, of course. He wasn't as naive as to try to use techniques from his time as Kage.

 

He could even use Shukaku as an explanation for his rapid improvement – he didn't plan on acting as clueless seven-year-old any longer than he had to. It wasn't like anyone could accuse him of lying anyway – no one knew what it was like to have a demon sealed inside them, so they basically would have to accept whatever he told them regarding Shukaku.

 

Speaking of which.

 

Gaara frowned and rubbed his temples, irritated. He had lost count of how many times he’d had to suppress a mental attack of Shukaku in the last few hours. After years of sharing his mind, being able to influence him constantly, the demon seemed angry – livid – to be banned into a far corner of Gaara's mind.

 

Gaara couldn't say how glad he was to be sent back as far as he did. If he had been trapped in his younger body after he had suffered his mental breakdown he wasn't sure if he had been able to subdue the demon by himself.

 

Maybe he should get out of his room, Gaara thought, ignoring another mental assault. Being alone didn’t do him any good at the moment, now that he was still vulnerable to Shukaku. Gaara wasn't a social person – Naruto had changed him, but it was still not part of his personality – but it didn't mean he wanted to be alone all the time. 

 

Quite the opposite: Before the War he had loved being around his siblings, not necessarily interacting but simply being together. Even if he hadn't felt like socializing, being close to them, listening to them, even without speaking himself – he had loved it. Had loved that they felt comfortable around him.

 

It wouldn't be easy to win back that kind of trust. 

 

Would it be easier this time around? Or even more difficult? Gaara wasn’t sure yet.

 

On one hand he would have the chance to change their relationship for the better much earlier, before he snapped. Before he would turn into a real monster. On the other he had no idea how to interact with his siblings, as young as they were. Temari and Kankurō weren't the people he remembered, they were children, still developing and changing.

 

As far as he remembered they also hadn't known him for long, at this point. They had been raised separately for years, on orders from Rasa. He probably wanted to keep the experiment away from his actual children. 

 

Only when all of them had started to train had they been introduced to each other – because naturally, they couldn't have teamed up the demon with regular children. The point was, Temari and Kankurō didn't know him yet, which meant they hadn't seen him at his worst, hadn't seen him possessed. 

 

It also meant the only thing they knew was whatever they were told about him: That he was a ticking time bomb probably, that he could kill them effortlessly if they weren't careful, that it would be their duty to keep him under control once they were older.

 

The odds weren't good, but they could be worse.

 

Since he would most likely need multiple attempts to befriend his siblings, Gaara decided he might as well start now. Not for the first time he envied Naruto for his natural ability to make friends with anyone. Anyone who bothered to see the real him, that was.

 

He walked to the door, grabbing for his gourd – before remembering that he would only start carrying it around when Baki brought up the issue of missions outside of Suna. After all, he didn't have much need for it now, with sand everywhere around him at his disposal and him technically not being able to infuse chakra with it for enhancement just yet. 

 

Maybe he could speed up the process and ask his teacher about it himself. He felt vulnerable without it. As he got closer the silence in the empty hallways was broken by the familiar noise of his brother's workshop. He peered into the room cautiously, unsure of how to proceed.

 

Kankurō had his back to him, working intently on some smaller parts he had disassembled at his feet. The puppet in its entirety – once it would be finished – seemed like little more than a toy, especially since Gaara had seen what his brother would use in the future. 

 

Admittedly, he mostly wouldn’t use his own inventions for fighting when he was older, but it required an immense amount of skill and understanding of the art to use puppets the caliber of Sasori of the Red Sand – and to improve them.

 

No matter how many times people (mostly Temari) teased him for his 'toys', Gaara had no illusions about just how talented his brother was.

 

He stepped into the room, trying to make his steps audible as to not startle Kankurō. That would make a great start to their brotherly relationship, Kankurō losing his fingers because Gaara startled him while working with his not quite harmless tools.

 

“Temari, that you?”, Kankurō said, turning around with half his attention still focused on his puppet. He dropped his tools as soon as he spotted Gaara standing in the doorway.

 

“G-Gaara,” he stuttered, facing his brother with a defensively tense posture. His scowl probably didn’t look as aggressive as he wanted it too: Kankurō looked about to bolt from the room. Or would have, had Gaara not stood between him and the entrance. “What are you doing here?!”

 

His brother might as well have slapped him, his cold tone making it clear how unwelcome Gaara was in his workshop. Or in his presence, generally. It brought back memories Gaara had tried to suppress for ages, memories of hatred, of isolation. Of loneliness. He did his best to ignore all of it, but his brother's words stung, horribly.

 

“I wanted to see what you're working on,” he said, in what he hoped was a non-threatening way.

 

Kankurō blinked. “What?”

 

“Your project,” Gaara repeated, pointing at the tools at his brother's feet. “I wanted to see it.” It wasn't much conversation wise, but he hoped it would be enough for the start. His brother loved to talk (and brag) about his puppets, would enjoy telling them everything, from new fighting strategies, to how exactly each of them functioned. It didn't matter that they couldn't keep up with the technicalities from time to time.

 

Gaara forced himself to smile and tried to look as childishly curious as he managed. It wasn't an expression his brother was used to see from him.

 

“Look,” Kankurō snapped, glaring at Gaara and with a slight tremor in his voice. “I don't like to play games! Look for someone else to let your whims out at!” He hadn't yet managed to speak around the lump in his throat when they were interrupted by a horrified gasp coming from the doorway.

 

He turned around, coming face to face with a terrified looking Temari, her eyes wide with panic.

 

“H-He didn't mean that! He was just – surprised!” Even as she forced a smile on her face, the 9-year-old looked about ready to cry.

 

It ripped at Gaara's heart, to know that he was the cause of her distress, was the reason she seemed to be fearing for her life, for hers and for Kankurō's. He swallowed, trying to get himself to speak. He couldn't meet his siblings’ eyes anymore.

 

“It's fine. I didn't want to bother you.”

 

He didn't manage to bring out more and left the room without so much as a look back. It would be even more difficult than he had anticipated, Gaara thought as he walked down the hall once more. Suppressing a wave of guilt and self-hatred, he went back to his room to prepare for his training.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Shikamaru didn't have academy class that day.

 

His parents mentioned it in passing at the breakfast table – apparently, the teachers had prompted a day off, for some kind of conference to be held. It was something Shikamaru should have known – would have, had he remembered going to school the day before – and he just barely managed to look like the information wasn't new to him. As if his slip-up the last day hadn't been suspicious enough, his parents were also kept wondering why their incredibly lazy son was awake at this time of the day when he didn't have school.

 

Shikamaru sighed, feeling a headache rising up. He was walking through the streets aimlessly, his eyes taking in his surroundings like a half-forgotten memory.

 

It was a pain, trying to hide something this big from the people who knew him arguably the best. Or had known him best. Now they were missing years, didn’t remember the longer part of his life. They still saw him as the little boy who had died such a long time ago.

 

Maybe it wasn't so bad after all, to have another day free before the academy would start again. He had thought he would be ready by now, but the reunion with his parents had clearly  provedproven him wrong.

 

It would be best, Shikamaru thought, to have another day to come to terms with his situation. It would give him time to plan, time to get over his inner turmoil and to prepare for meeting his friends again.

 

He turned around a corner and saw a bunch of children standing in front of a boy he recognized. He’d recognize him anywhere. Shikamaru felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Chōji hadn’t seen him yet, instead looking at the children before him. He looked, well. He looked tiny. Vulnerable.

 

It was a stark contrast to the last time Shikamaru had seen him, several meters tall as he crushed any enemy stupid enough to get in his way. It had been breath-taking to what degree he had overcome his lack of self-confidence, how unhesitatingly, how sure of himself and his capabilities he had moved, had fought.

 

Shikamaru had hated it. He’d hated the circumstances that had forced his friend to change.

 

Chōji had always been kind, ever since he was a child. To see him change after every blow they took, after every friend they lost, to see a kindhearted person like him turn into a seasoned shinobi, a war veteran, despite their age – it had been agonizing. But it had been necessary.

 

To see him again, young and shy and innocent  _ – _ Shikamaru didn't know how to react. So he just watched, taking in the situation.

 

Chōji seemed nervous somehow, bowed like he wanted to make himself look as small as possible in front of the other children, who were standing in a half circle before him. They were teasing him, Shikamaru realized, excluding him from their game.

 

A fire started to burn inside him, melting away the shock that had him frozen. How dare they.

 

But before he could do anything but frown the conversation seemed to be over and Chōji turned around. His dejected expression lightened up as soon as he spotted Shikamaru. He jogged over the short distance between them and came to a halt in front of him.

 

“Shikamaru!”, he greeted, with a smile as big as if the conversation with the other children hadn’t happened. Then, possibly noting his friend's blank expression, he added: “Are you alright?”

 

Shaking off his inner turmoil, Shikamaru smiled lazily and let his posture relax to a carefree slouch.

 

“Nah, I'm fine. Had a bit trouble with my mom yesterday. She can be such a pain.”

 

Chōji relaxed, smiling at his friend. “Want to do something? I didn't think you'd be awake this early.”

 

Shikamaru sighed as the two of them started walking side by side. “Yeah, it's a drag.” Then, following a sudden notion, he added: “Hey. Why don't we just, go to our usual place? Watch the clouds for a bit?”

 

His voice must have given away something to his friend; Chōji sounded slightly confused when he answered, but didn't dwell on it. “Oh. Sure, why not!”

 

They walked in comfortable silence and for once Shikamaru felt completely at peace with himself. He had missed Chōji even more than he had realized. He had never had the time to properly grieve, not as long as he planned to survive the day. It hadn’t been an option to get overwhelmed by his feelings, if he had, it would have been over.

 

And Chōji had always been special to him, special in a way that not even Naruto and Gaara could be. The three of them had grown close in recent years, yes. But he had only started to view them as his closest friends after Chōji had died. They had always had a special bond, had been friends much longer than they had been a team. Their friendship had only strengthened with every battle they had fought, their trust in each other rivaled by no ones else’s.

 

It had been hard, to lose that bond.

 

But now he had the chance to form it again.

 

When they arrived on the rooftop Chōji pulled out the snacks he brought wherever he went, and offered to share them as they laid down next to each other. It was a nice day, a bit chilly but sunny, the sky spotted with fluffy clouds.

 

A perfect day for Shikamaru's favorite childhood activity. He let out a sigh, stretching and using his arms as pillow behind his head. 

 

But even as he relaxed on the outside, the storm in his head didn’t ease even a bit. His mind was drilled to take in everything around him. The children’s laughter drifting over from a nearby playground. The stench of explosives reeking off the training grounds across the street. The wavering chakra signature from a shinobi struggling to perfect a new technique.

 

Shikamaru didn't let it show, but he was restless. Had been, ever since he had arrived. He had slept only a few hours, and it was taking its toll on his younger body: Only days prior, he had been used to function with the barest minimum of sleep. Now, he felt the weariness tugging at his senses, trying to weigh down his body, his mind.

 

The nightmares hadn't helped.

 

He had woken up completely rigid, his body forcibly still and motionless – instead of screaming and in terror like seven-year-old him probably would have. Waking up paralyzed and waiting for his mind to catch up was much worse, no matter how useful it was in some situation. Like covert missions. Or when trying to let his parents in the dark about his war flashbacks.

 

After a while without either of them speaking Shikamaru finally broke the silence, not turning his gaze away from the sky.

 

“Hey, Chōji. Why were you with those kids?” None of them had ever been particularly friendly towards Chōji, even when they let him join their games. Why would he hang out with people who didn't value him for who he was?

 

Chōji didn't answer at first. When he did, his voice wavered ever so slightly.

 

“Well, you weren't there and I thought.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I thought maybe it would be different this time around.”

 

Shikamaru frowned. It was difficult, trying to understand his friend’s thought progress when it was so different from what he was used to. But Chōji was seven at the moment, he supposed he couldn't blame him for wanting to be acknowledged by his peers.

 

At this point he hadn't realized that people who didn't accept him for who he was weren't worth it, weren't worth his time and certainly not worth trying to change for them.

 

“Chōji,” he said, tilting his head to the side a bit. “You know you're better than all of them, right? If they can't appreciate you for who you are, they don't deserve our attention.” Chōji probably didn’t realize it on his own at this point, but Shikamaru would try his hardest to make him understand.

  
“Who cares that you're not good at those stupid games they play, I'm not friends with you for that. We're friends because you're one of the most caring people I know, and that's so great about you. 

 

“Please, don't try to change for someone like that, and don't let anybody tell you you aren't good enough.”

 

Too late he realized that a seven-year-old probably wouldn’t say any of this, that early in a conversation, no less. But he had gotten carried away; he wanted to tell his friend how much he meant to him, wanted to make up for it since he hadn't had a proper chance before.

 

He couldn't tell him everything he wanted to – from Chōji’s perspective they hadn't known each other that long – so (hopefully) boosting his self-confidence was the next best thing. Chōji hadn't answered yet and Shikamaru started to think that he had gone too far. 

 

Then he said: “Shikamaru. Thanks, I- That means a lot.”

 

They didn't talk for a while, simply looked up at the sky and enjoyed each other’s company. Below, they could hear the faint noise of the village, people talking on the streets and, once in a while, children's laughter.

 

“Hey, Chōji?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What do you think of Naruto?” As so many other things, the blond had been constantly on Shikamaru's mind ever since their disastrous first meeting the other day. He felt guilty in retrospect, having left the other boy on the academy ground alone. He didn't want to know what Naruto had to have thought of that, he simply wanted to make it up to him.

 

“Naruto? The one Iruka-sensei's always mad about?” Chōji grabbed another potato chip, chewing thoughtfully. If he was confused about the sudden change in topic, he didn't let it show. “I dunno. I never really talked to him before.”

 

Shikamaru didn't let it go that easily. “So your parents didn't tell you anything about him?”

 

“You mean like, to stay away from him? That's what other parents say all the time, right?” Chōji was quiet for a moment, then looked over at Shikamaru. “No, they didn't say anything like that. Why do you ask?”

 

Shikamaru grabbed for the bag of chips between them before answering. “Well, I dunno.” He shrugged carelessly. “We could invite him to hang out with us some time.”

 

His voice never wavered, but inwardly he was tense. He had been right in assuming that Chōji's parents didn't talk badly about Naruto either, just like his own. However, that didn't mean Chōji couldn't have picked up the other children's behavior.

 

Finally, Chōji answered. “Sure, why not. We can ask him when we see him the next time.”

 

At once, the tension bled out of Shikamaru. He hadn't really thought Chōji would be like the other children, but it felt great to be certain.

 

He relaxed, looking up at the sky and a near indiscernible smile on his lips.

 

Naruto would have friends, this time around – he would make sure of that.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to review!


	5. Chapter 5

 

Realization struck as soon as Gaara stepped onto the training grounds. He had made a mistake. He had made horrible, stupid mistake.

 

It didn’t happen often to him, but too little thinking, a simple assumption had gotten him into a situation he wished he could have prepared for properly – or avoided altogether. Because it wasn't Baki that stood in front of him. It was the Kazekage. Rasa.

 

He froze as if struck, his thoughts racing.

 

Stupid. He was  _ stupid _ .

 

Baki hadn't started training him until he had formed a team with his siblings; prior to that, only Temari and Kankurō had learned from him.

 

It had been Rasa who taught him ninjutsu, up until he decided his experiment had failed and tried to have him eliminated with as little effort as possible. It was then that Yashamaru had received his orders, had let himself be killed, by him, on Rasa's command. Only after five more assassination attempts had Gaara started to get his powers under control, and it was then that Rasa had started to appreciate him. As a weapon, not as his son.

 

Gaara didn't know what to do.

 

Rasa was the sole person he had been afraid of during his childhood – no, terrified. It didn’t matter if he regretted his decisions in the end or not, he was still responsible for making Gaara's childhood hell.

 

Gaara began to feel lightheaded, his breath quickening. What was wrong with him? True, he had been afraid of Rasa during his childhood. As the only one who could subdue Shukaku he was the only person who could actually harm him, if he wanted to.

 

But Gaara wasn't a little kid anymore, not mentally. He had faced much worse enemies than the Fourth Kazekage could ever be. He had fought, had bled and suffered, had grown to be one of the most looked up to Kage in history.

 

And yet, standing in front of Rasa his emotions were overflowing – fear, disappointment, and the irrational need to prove himself. It was stupid, but somewhere, somehow, he still longed for Rasa to acknowledge him, longed for a normal life, with a family that accepted him, loved him.

 

It was something the man standing in front of him could never give him, and Gaara knew it.

 

And yet.

 

“What are you waiting for?” Rasa's voice was like steel, not leaving any room for protest. “Show me how much your control has improved since I left.”

 

Since he left? Maybe Rasa had been out of the village, a diplomatic meeting perhaps. As Kage it was natural for him to have duties outside the village from time to time. Still, Gaara had no idea what was expected of him. “W-What should I do?”

 

Rasa threw him a look that nearly looked dismissive – because of his stutter or the question itself, Gaara didn't know.

 

“You can start with your clones.”

 

At Gaara's command, the sand started to move.

 

* * *

 

The training session that, by any rights, should have required nothing but his most basic abilities, turned out to be much more strenuous than he had anticipated. When he was finally allowed to leave the training grounds, Gaara was exhausted. Rasa had tested him for hours, had observed countless of his chakra routines and had even ordered a spar between them in the end, using their sand manipulation only.

 

Gaara walked to the kitchen slowly, trying to bring his labored breathing back under control. While still shaken by the unexpected reunion with Rasa, halfway through the first exercise he had realized that he had a much bigger problem to worry about than the former Kazekage.

 

While his control itself was decent, his chakra resources? Not so much. He had taken them for granted, hadn't even considered the possibility of anything being amiss with them. They had never been an issue before.

 

But the fact remained: He wasn't able to access any of Shukaku's chakra.

 

The sensation was foreign, felt simply wrong, and Gaara couldn't deny that his new limitation scared him. Shukaku's chakra had always been there to use as his own – the faulted seal didn't simply let the bijū's thoughts and emotions bleed through to him, but his strength as well.

 

Now, with him actively blocking Shukaku from his own thoughts, it fel tlike the demon was cutting off his chakra supply, was making an effort to keep his energy out of his reach. Gaara hadn't even known it was possible. Maybe the demon tried to keep the two of them separated because Gaara wasn’t the same? Was he wary of him, because he didn't feel like his jinchūriki anymore?

 

Not for the first time, Gaara wished the bijū would just talk to him, would allow him to explain. He wanted to try building a bond different from their past relationship as prisoner and jailer, the only thing connecting them their crippling downfall into insanity.

 

But as plainly as he could feel Shukaku's frustration, he also knew that the demon couldn't think clearly enough for him to have a coherent conversation with his host – the damned seal made sure of that.

 

Gaara was left with a fraction of his normal chakra supply – and while his natural reserves weren't exactly small for a seven-year-old, he simply wasn't used to relying on them alone. 

 

Gaara was worried; his skills had been alarmingly reduced and he doubted he could take on a regular jōnin in his current situation, not to mention a member of the Akatsuki.

 

While he could learn to deal with his new handicap, the issue would only be solved completely by fixing his seal – allowing him to talk to Shukaku.

 

Gaara sighed, wishing for what felt like the thousandth time to be with Naruto and Shikamaru. He hoped they were alright, hoped they had arrived just as safely as he had. It was just their luck; as children, there weren't many possibilities for them to meet each other.

 

If only he could travel to Konoha on his own. 

 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. He was weakened, yes, but not so much that he wouldn't be able to handle the journey between their two countries. It would take him several days to get to Konoha and back, certainly over a week. They could meet up, he could ask Naruto to replace his seal and make plans with the two of them. 

 

It was ridiculous how tempting the thought was, how eager he was to simply leave Suna right this moment. Of course, the risk would be too big. He could end up prompting Rasa to assign more ANBU for his supervision, might even risk an earlier assassination attempt.

 

No, he would have to be patient and wait for the right opportunity.

 

He didn't even know what Rasa thought of his performance during the lesson. Aside from the occasional command or correction he hadn’t spoken at all, so Gaara couldn’t be sure whether he had improved or worsened, from his perspective.

 

For the moment, it didn't matter. His relationship with Rasa could hardly get any worse than it had been the first time around – it didn’t get much lower than assassination attempts. No, his low chakra levels were the more pressing matter, and he planned to work on them as soon as possible.

 

Standing outside the door, Gaara heard noises inside the kitchen, making him stop just before entering. He contemplated going back to his room, not particularly keen on meeting his siblings again so soon after their conversation earlier.

In the end, he took the risk – the chakra signature didn't feel like it belonged to children, something Gaara could sense even in his exhausted state. Also, he was hungry.

 

So he stepped over the doorway, peeking into the room – and relaxed instantly at the sight that greeted him. Yashamaru looked up from his position at the kitchen counter. He took in Gaara's worn-out appearance with a strained glance before smiling at him, banishing all negative emotions from his eyes in a moment.

 

“Gaara-sama.” Yashamaru nodded, greeting him with a kind smile on his face. “I hope the training session wasn't too hard. You've been gone for hours.” Concern lined his voice, accompanied by the cold disapproval that could only be addressed to Rasa. Gaara marvelled at how openly Yashamaru displayed his emotions, something he had been too oblivious to notice as a child.

 

“I'm fine, Yashamaru. Just tired,” he admitted softly, offering his caretaker a shy smile.

 

Yashamaru accepted his answer without complaint, turning his back to his charge to continue his cooking. For a few minutes, the kitchen was filled with comfortable silence, broken only by the noise of Yashamaru's work. It didn't take long for him to finish.

 

After a while with neither of them speaking, simply enjoying their meal, Gaara looked up at his uncle, contemplating his next words.Yashamaru must have picked up on it and he was met with an encouraging smile, prompting him to start talking.

 

“Y-Yashamaru?” he asked.

 

“Yes, Gaara-sama?”

 

Gaara bit his lip, eyes focused on the table. “D-do you think I could join my sib- Kankurō and Temari in their training sessions?”

 

He wasn't entirely sure when he had started to think of the possibility. Of course, he was aware that his siblings wouldn't be thrilled about it in the beginning, but hopefully it would give him the opportunity to interact with them on a regular basis and improve their relationship. Eventually.

 

Yashamaru paused before answering. “I'm not sure the Kazekage would agree to let you train with Baki-sensei instead. Why do you want to train with them?” The question was reasonable. Gaara didn't have any bonds with his siblings to speak of, so why would he want to spend more time with them?

 

“We’ll be on a team together eventually. We won't work together well if we don't know each other. And,” he went on before Yashamaru could answer. “And I don't want to train with Baki-sensei instead.” Or well, he did, but he knew Rasa would never agree to it. Not at this point.

 

“I- I mean I want to join them additionally with regular training.”

 

He waited for Yashamaru to answer, squirming under his gaze. He felt like Yashamaru was analyzing him.

 

Finally, his uncle said, slowly: “I will see what I can do, Gaara-sama. I will have to talk to both, the Kazekage and Baki-sensei. The decision lies with them in the end.“

 

Gaara nodded in acknowledgment, not having expected anything more – Yashamaru didn't have the power to make such decisions on his own. And his request was quite unusual. In another time, just months from now, he couldn't have been more indifferent to his siblings. With Shukaku's presence dominating his thoughts and with him actively opposing others after having been rejected again and again, they had been nothing but a bother to him. Had slowed him down, were insignificant, at best. It was a phase of his life he couldn't bear to think about anymore.

 

He said nothing for a while. Then-

 

“And, Yashamaru.” He started fiddling with the seam of his clothes, eyes trained firmly on the table. “Could you not- not call me that anymore?”

 

Yashamaru blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

 

Gaara's eyes flickered up, meeting his uncle's gaze for just a moment. “'Gaara-sama'. It's too polite.” Of course, there was more to it than that. Gaara wasn't sure why, but the honorifics made him uncomfortable, coming from someone close to him. 

 

During his time as Kazekage he had even asked his siblings to drop the titles in public – a request they had adamantly refused, claiming it would make people take him less seriously. They were probably right, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

 

As for Yashamaru – his bewilderment was obvious, surprise and confusion shimmering through his composed expression. He couldn't exactly blame him; they had known each other Gaara's entire life, and he had never expressed anything similar.

 

“I- I don't think that would be appropriate, Gaara-sama.” His voice sounded troubled.

 

Gaara frowned, not at all happy with his answer, although he understood. It could have serious consequences if Yashamaru was caught disrespecting the Kazekage's son, no matter who he was. “Please, Yashamaru. Just when no one else is around?”

 

Yashamaru looked away, thoughtfully, and Gaara waited for his decision patiently.

 

“...Very well. Gaara-kun.” As his uncle smiled at him with those warm, kind eyes of his, for the first time that he had spent in the past Gaara felt truly and genuinely happy.

 

* * *

 

After meeting the boy for the first time, it hadn’t taken long for Iruka to learn that Naruto was not a calm child. He was a bundle of energy, always talking, always moving and generally radiating excitement wherever he went.

 

It was remarkable. He didn't think anyone else, when faced with as much hostility as Naruto in his short life, would have grown up to be as cheerful and outgoing as his student was.

 

What put a damper on his cheerful personality was how often he tended to take things too far – as well as his reasons for it: Naruto’s impudence, the lack of a parental figure in his life who could teach him otherwise. His pranks were the desperate actions of a child who didn't have another option but to lash out at others for them to notice him.

 

He'd felt like crying the first time Naruto had told him about his dream. He had sat in front of a child who was convinced that his only chance of people noticing him, his one chance to be acknowledged, was becoming a Kage. And yet, he still managed to smile every day, still found a reason to laugh when others would have broken long ago.

 

The point was – Naruto didn’t do silent.

 

It had started at the academy, where, for once, Naruto hadn’t stood out negatively at all. He’d sat in class without so much as a comment, staring blankly ahead of him and clearly not listening at all (not that that was anything new). Not a single attempt to disturb the lesson, not a single prank even after class was over. And not a word from him all day.

 

Even now, after arriving at Naruto's favorite restaurant, Ichiraku's, Naruto hadn't been enthusiastic about it at all. Both of them had been served their ramen by now, Teuchi and his daughter Ayame both giving them (especially Naruto) concerned looks. Of course they had picked up on it as well.

 

Iruka had already felt bad for canceling on Naruto the other day, painfully aware of the fact that he was the only one, other than the Hokage himself, who regularly spent time with him. As much as he regretted it, yesterday had proven that his work at the academy could be much more occupying than one would think of a mere academy teacher.

 

As Hokage, the Sandaime had it even worse.

 

“Naruto?” he asked gently, trying to make his voice sound as welcoming and soothing as possible. “You've been awfully quiet, is something the matter?” To Iruka's surprise, it didn't take more for him to talk.

 

“Hey, Iruka-sensei?” His voice was quiet and Naruto wouldn't meet his eyes, glancing firmly on the bowl of ramen in front of him. It was so unlike Naruto, Iruka felt completely out of his depth.

 

He swallowed before answering. “Yeah, Naruto? What is it?”

 

“Why does no one like me?”

 

The question felt like a punch to the gut.

 

“N- Naruto.” Iruka didn't know what to say. He frowned, the corner of his mouth turned downwards.

 

“'s just,” Naruto was talking again, still not looking up from his food. “I get why they'd be mad about the pranks, y'know? I get it. But I'm not like that all the time! I didn't use to do it at all, I used to be just there! And it wasn't any different for them. 'cept no one would notice me at all most of the time.”

 

Iruka was speechless. He was used to a bouncing, rambling Naruto, always happy and full of energy. He knew the boy was lonely – how could he not be? – but normally, Naruto didn't let it show. He never outright asked why the majority of Konoha treated him the way they did. 

 

Of course, it was a justified question. Just not one Iruka was allowed to answer. In the end, he simply ruffled Naruto's hair affectionately and said: “Well, I think you're pretty great.”

 

As true as it was, Iruka knew he was avoiding the question. But as Naruto's head snapped up, looking at Iruka with a bright expression, he thought that maybe he had said the right thing after all.

 

“You do?”

 

Iruka wasn't sure if he felt like laughing or crying. It was such a small gesture, such a basic sign of affection, and yet Naruto couldn't be more ecstatic about it.

 

In the end, he simply kept smiling and said, “I do. And you know,” he met Naruto's gaze with soft, warm eyes. “I'm sure, one day you'll find people who will see you for what you are. And they'll love you for it.”

 

It would be hard for Naruto, harder than it had any right to be for a child. Children were supposed to be loved unconditionally by their family, should have the chance to make friends and form bonds by simply being who they were.

 

Naruto had been denied both.

 

“People can be blind,” Iruka went on. “They dislike others for reasons they don't even quite understand. They refuse to see what's right in front of their eyes. But it won't be like that forever. I promise.”

 

Iruka watched, smiling wistfully, as Naruto finally started gulping his food with his usual enthusiasm. Although he believed every word he had said, he hoped wholeheartedly Naruto would find friends sooner rather than later. It wasn't something he could help him with – he didn't even manage to protect him from his classmates the whole time.

 

He suppressed a frown, furious with himself. He wished he could do more, wished he could shield Naruto from the entire village if necessary. Anything, until he would meet people who weren't influenced by the people around them, who would get to know the person that Naruto was, not the one everyone said he was.

 

Until then, he would be there for him as much as he could. If Iruka could make the kid's life just a little bit better, if he could put a smile on his face from time to time, just like he did now – Iruka was content with making even a small difference.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To be honest, I'll be slightly disappointed if not at least some of you'll catch the reference! I thought it fit quite well, so there you go!
> 
> School started again, and since its my last year its already so hectic... It means I might not be able to update as quickly. It all depends on how I'll handle the workload (edit: She did not, in fact, handle anything well), and I mean, we haven't even started the exam phase yet... In case the updates do slow down (edit: They did. Whoops.), please be patient! I'll do my best though!
> 
> Don't forget to leave a review!
> 
> ~Gwen


	6. Chapter 6

  
  


Shikamaru was torn. He had spent two days in Konoha now, two days that had felt completely unreal. 

 

He had met Chōji, his best friend (which went well), his parents (which went less well), and Naruto, his former and future Hokage (which had been an absolute disaster of a reunion). All in all he definitely could have handled his time in the past a lot better. And yet, Shikamaru was about to go back to the academy, together with all of the other rookies.

 

Ino and Sakura would still be friends at this point, not yet having started their rivalry around Sasuke. Sasuke himself had not lost his family yet, so he would not have turned into his slightly arrogant loner self just now.

 

And Naruto...

 

Shikamaru winced, thoughts drifting to his friend's behavior two days ago. Thinking about it now, he felt like crying over what he had seen. Naruto had been alone, watching the other children having fun together. No one had come for him, to pick him up for the day, to bring him home to a loving, supportive family.

 

Hadn't Naruto mentioned something about Iruka? Something about canceling dinner with him?

 

Shikamaru wanted to punch himself. Rationally, he knew no one could fault him for the way he had reacted. Meeting his friend again, who was not the person he had expected him to be, was his younger self, naive and unknowing of what Shikamaru had been through – it had been too much. Naruto had barely even recognized him, had barely known his name. Because they weren't friends at this point, because he'd never bothered to talk to him at this age.

 

The guilt was wearing him down. Naruto had seemed so happy to talk to him, had been ecstatic even though they hadn't known each other before. And Shikamaru had left, leaving him just as alone as he'd been before. 

 

The academy building came into view and Shikamaru forced himself to take a deep breath. It wouldn't help anyone if he lost his self control now, so he slowed his steps, starting to walk in his typical, lazy slouch.

 

Many of the other children were already there, playing or talking to each other until one of the teachers would open the entrance for them. Just as he started to look out for spiky, sunshine colored hair, a cheerful voice caused him to halt mid step.

 

“Shikamaru!”

 

He smiled, turning around to face his friend.

 

“Hey Chōji.” As soon as the other boy stood in front of him, having jogged over from across the academy grounds, he added: “You seen Naruto yet?” If he was surprised, Chōji didn't let it show.

 

“No, not yet. You think he's preparing another prank? Or skipping?”

 

Shikamaru didn't say it out loud, but he hoped not. He wanted to talk to Naruto as soon as possible and try to make up for his mistake the other day. Instead he shrugged. “Not a clue.”

 

“Why does he even do it? He just keeps making adults mad with what he does.” Chōji didn't sound spiteful, just earnestly confused and curious.

 

“Hmm.” Shikamaru knew the reason, of course. Naruto's thirst for acknowledgment was obvious for someone who knew of his background – and bothered to think about it for more than a minute. But that wasn't something he wanted to burden his friend with, so he kept quiet.

 

Chōji started telling him a story his father had told him – a story about their parents' time as Ino-Shika-Cho squad during the Third War, one Shikamaru had heard himself from his own father, years ago – and he listened closely, still amazed that he was talking to his best friend again.

 

Once in a while, he would catch a glimpse of the other rookies – even Tenten, who was a year above them with Lee and Neji – and each and every time it sent a spark of joy through his body, though he didn't try to interact with any of them. He was content talking to Chōji and he wasn't really friends with any of the others yet, as far as he remembered. Simply seeing them young and alive was more than enough for the moment.

 

At the same time, Shikamaru could feel himself growing more and more agitated and restless. By now, the academy grounds were filled with children, running and screaming and loud.

 

For Shikamaru's hyper-awareness, it was torture. His mind had a hard time distinguishing from different kind of noises, different kind of screams. And with the noises, the memories came. He could feel the chakra spiking around him, could smell the rusty stench of blood, could see the flash of a kunai, the biting smoke of a Fire Release.

 

He closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. He could feel his body trembling. Luckily, it went unnoticed by Chōji – the academy door was opened for them.

 

The classroom was easier – more peaceful – and Shikamaru managed to calm his nerves enough to keep up the conversation with his friend. His restlessness didn't decrease, but he held up his careless facade well enough to not raise any questions.

 

Naruto still hadn't come and although he knew it wasn't a rare occurrence for him, he still couldn't help but worry.

 

The door opened – Shikamaru shot a hopeful glance in its direction – and Iruka stepped into the classroom, smiling at his students. Shikamaru leaned back, slightly disappointed. It was great seeing Iruka again, but right now the only person he wanted to see was Naruto himself. So he could make sure he was alright and to apologize.

 

“Well,” Iruka began, dropping a few documents on the desk in the front. “I hope all of you enjoyed your day off.” He let his gaze wander over his students and Shikamaru was certain his shoulders slumped just a tiny bit when he was through. Was he looking for Naruto as well?

 

“We’ll continue with a bit of history today, I think we left off somewhere in Senju Hashirama's early days as Hokage?” Indistinct murmur was his answer, pointedly unenthusiastic.

 

Iruka just chuckled. “I know, I know. We've had quite a bit history lately, haven't we? Well, how about this-”

 

He was interrupted by the door slamming into the wall with a bang. In a blur of blond hair and orange Naruto rushed in, panting and sporting a sheepish grin.

 

“Naruto,” Iruka sighed, sounding exasperated. Shikamaru doubted anyone but him could detect the relieved undertone in his voice. Naruto chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck in a familiar gesture.

 

“Hehe, sorry 'bout that! I swear, I didn't wanna be late! This time,” he added as an afterthought. Iruka sighed again, just short of rolling his eyes.

 

“It's fine, just sit down. As I was saying, we've been doing a lot of history lately, so how about we have a bit of practical training later today? But only-” he added, raising his voice over the murmur of his excited students, “-only if you pay attention from now on!”

 

Shikamaru blended his teacher out after that.

 

He knew the basics about shinobi history and everything else was a waste of time, in his opinion. He hadn't listened to it the first time around and he wouldn't bother the second time either.

 

He had graduated in the end, hadn't he? From his point of view, that was everything that mattered. What was the use of cramming his brain full of information he wouldn't need ever again in his life? Iruka could preach all he wanted, Shikamaru couldn't care less.

 

He watched Naruto slide into one of the seating banks – far from him and Chōji, unfortunately – somehow already looking bored, despite having arrived just a minute ago. His eyes even flickered in his direction once, but not long enough for Shikamaru to react to it. Naruto was avoiding his gaze, and he couldn't blame him for it.

 

Shikamaru groaned softly, feeling a fresh wave of guilt rising up.

 

But it didn't matter. Naruto was here now, so he would clean up after his mess and make up with the other boy, convince him that he didn't have ulterior motives and befriend him as soon as possible. It might take a while for Naruto to believe him, but Shikamaru wouldn't allow himself to fail. He wouldn't allow himself to fail Naruto ever again.

 

But first, well. First he would have to get through the lesson without dying of boredom.

 

In his first life he would have probably gone to sleep (if he hadn't skipped altogether) but he didn't dare it now. He couldn't do anything against his nightmares at home but he wasn't too keen to suffer through them in public.

 

He sighed, resting his head on the table and using his arms as pillow. It would be a long morning.

 

What a drag.

 

* * *

 

Outside the sun was shining, casting her warmth through the chilly morning air while the rustling of the trees created a peaceful atmosphere. Shikamaru nearly wanted to sob in relief. The lecture had lasted close to two hours, two hours of dull, boring retelling of dull, boring shinobi history.

 

How anyone of the seven- to eight-year-old children could bear it, he would never know. How students like Sakura could actually listen and remember the information for Iruka's written tests was beyond him.

 

He let out a breath, stretching his arms and sighed. Unfortunately, he didn't have hope for the situation to change anytime soon. Sure, they were going to learn a bit practical routine now and again but mostly, Konoha's shinobi academy was heavily based on theory. Especially this early in their academy years.

 

Shikamaru couldn't wrap his head around it: theoretical knowledge could only get a shinobi so far, Sakura's early days in Team 7 proved as much. He could understand why adults would want to soften up the lessons in times of peace, seeing the academy students for what they were – children.

 

But he had also seen what came after the academy. He had seen the reality that students were exposed to grossly unprepared.

 

Once a shinobi graduated they were seen as an adult, no matter how old they were. It was harsh reality, but it was the way a shinobi village worked – had to, in order to survive.

 

And at war, children graduated the academy only shortly after joining, were send on missions right away. They learned combat at the same time as they learned reading – the academy had the function to train new warriors to fight for their village and it wasn't possible for them to be treated according to their age.

 

So, while he was unspeakably grateful to be at peace, he still thought it irresponsible to let academy students graduate unprepared for what was to come. As much as he’d love for the children to grow up as, well, children, he also knew that proper training was a better alternative than dying fresh out of the academy.

 

Especially chakra control was badly neglected and mostly taught in theory, not giving the students a chance to develop a feeling for it.

 

Exceptions were, of course, children of clan members. Most of them could at least perform the basics of their clan's trademark techniques. For Shikamaru it was the manipulation of his shadow, for Ino the mind-affecting techniques of the Yamanaka Clan, for Hinata and Neji the Byakugan, and so on.

 

But the point still stood; a big part of Shikamaru's own graduation exam had been an easy Clone Technique. It was about the extent to what they had learned chakra control in the academy. It was pathetic.

 

All in all, the academy would be nothing but a massive waste of time. 

 

Shikamaru glanced back to the academy building from where he was leaning against a tree. Chōji was next to him, happily munching the snacks he had brought. Iruka had sent his students ahead, instructing them to do their warm up routine outside, while he stayed behind to have a word with Naruto – thus successfully preventing Shikamaru from talking to the other boy himself. Again.

 

Shikamaru narrowed his eyes. While he knew he would get his chance eventually, he didn't want to wait any longer than necessary. It hurt, seeing Naruto the way he was at the moment, and Shikamaru wouldn't stand for it.

 

Finally, Iruka came out of the building, Naruto trailing after him pouting but otherwise entirely unapologetic.

 

“Alright,” Iruka called, crossing the distance between them with a few steps. “We're going to do a bit sparring for now. One-on-one and only the basics, since we haven't done much practice lately. We'll see where we're going from there.”

 

Iruka named two of his students – neither of whom Shikamaru recognized – to step forward for the first spar. Signaling the start with the Seal of Confrontation the two of them looked at each other for a moment, before leaping back, drawing a kunai each.

 

Shikamaru flinched violently at the bright ring of the two weapons meeting each other, his entire body tensing up. He couldn’t take his eyes from the fight in front of him.

 

Their moves were sloppy, uncoordinated attacks, too much wasted movement. The flailing swing of a leg, aiming to unbalance his counterpart.

 

_ A massive shock wave passing through the earth, swiping dozens of shinobi off their feet _

 

A half-hearted kick to the other boy's chest, weak and ineffective.

 

_ A chakra infused hit, the shinobi next to him being tossed away, the sound of his ribs breaking cracking through the air _

 

The flash of a kunai being knocked away out of sheer luck, causing both fighters to lose their weapons in surprise.

 

_ A cloud of missiles aimed for them, rain of kunai shimmering in the air, hitting their targets in a shower of red _

 

Shikamaru clenched his eyes shut, gasping like he had just resurfaced out of deep water.

 

A voice next to him might have called his name but he couldn't be sure, couldn't distinguish between memory and reality, past and future and it was too much, too loud, _ too much. _

 

A deep breath. Then another.

 

The academy grounds. A sparring session. Iruka supervising, Chōji next to him. It was safe.

 

Slowly, his breathing returned to normal, the trembling of his body ceasing nearly completely.

 

“-kamaru! What's wrong, are you alright?”

 

He could register Chōji's voice, a hushed whisper directly next to him.

 

“I'm- I'm fine,” he forced out in a hoarse croak.

 

Wow. He sounded awful.

 

“Are you sure?” Chōji asked, doubt painting his voice. “You went totally rigid for a moment.”

 

“It's fine, really.” Shikamaru tried to sound reassuring but wasn't sure how successful he was. Not very, if Chōji's furrowed brows were anything to go by. “It was nothing.”

 

He looked around, noting with relief that no one but Chōji seemed to have noticed his little, well. His little episode. All eyes were fixed on the fight in front of them. Huh. Those weren't the boys who had started the sparring. Instead, a dark haired girl was fighting a red-haired boy who was just a little smaller than she was.

 

That wasn't good. He must have zoned out longer than he had thought.

 

Shikamaru took another breath, calming his nerves enough to start watching the sparring again. He only succeeded partly; he still winced every time an attack hit just a little too close, had to close his eyes when the students got too enthusiastic while charging.

 

It didn't matter that these were academy students, that rationally there was no way they could seriously harm each other by accident.

 

Then-

 

“-and Uzumaki Naruto.”

 

Shikamaru froze.

 

Before him, Naruto stepped forward, taking his position opposite of a brown haired, stern looking girl. He grinned, boisterous and challenging. “Heh, this won't take long! You don't stand a chance, fighting against the Future Hokage, believe it!”

 

The girl rolled her eyes. “Let's just get this over with.”

 

The Seal of Confrontation, both opponents taking their stance, the brown haired girl rushing forward, rushing towards Naruto– Shikamaru was moving, mind blank, controlled purely by instinct and muscle memory, following his body's need to act.

 

“Shikamaru!”

 

He was snapped back into reality with a gasp, breathing heavily and staring down at the seven-year-old girl he was pinning down with one kunai pressed firmly against her throat. His eyes, until now narrowed in cold concentration, went wide with shock as he realized what had happened. He had nearly.

 

He had been about to.

 

“Hey! Shikamaru!”

 

He turned to look at his teacher, his normally kind eyes focused on him in alarm.

 

“Shikamaru, let her go.” He sounded calm, but Shikamaru could see his tense posture.

 

Hastily, he stumbled to his feet, swaying where he stood. His opponent stood, scowling and muttering under her breath, “Man, that hurt.” She seemed entirely unconcerned – probably not aware that Shikamaru had been serious and close to cutting her throat, not knowing she had been close to dying.

 

Shikamaru could feel the ground swaying under his feet. His breath started to quicken. His classmates were staring, muttering.

 

Chōji looked at him with wide eyes, a mixture of shock and concern on his face. Naruto stood before him, confused and curious. Shikamaru stumbled, gasping for air – he felt like being sick.

 

Ignoring the voices calling after him, he ran.

 

* * *

 

Iruka stared after his student as he disappeared inside the academy building.

 

What exactly had just happened?

 

He checked up on Fuki in a daze. She wasn't injured, just disgruntled about being pinned to the ground and threatened with a kunai to her throat. She hadn't been worried, just surprised – after all, she hadn't felt what Iruka had. Hadn't felt the killing intent radiating from his seven-year-old student.

 

Iruka dismissed his students, in passing reassuring Chōji he'd take care of Shikamaru and willing the young boy to go home for the day. Then he went after Shikamaru.

 

The sparring shouldn't have been a big deal, should have been nothing but a short training session as a change from the dry history lessons. And yet, something had caused his student to attack a classmate, attack her with a real, deadly weapon.

 

But there was the utter shock on his face as Iruka snapped him out of whatever fit he had.

 

Iruka frowned, more than a little bewildered. The way his expression had changed from icy determination to horrified shock, shock because of his own actions, what he had done. It was the expression of someone who was caught in their own memories, was controlled by their brain going into overdrive, causing them to react to situations – to threats – that didn't exist. Flashbacks weren't uncommon among shinobi, although some were better at hiding them than others were.

 

But be that as it may, it was not an expression that had anything to do on the face of a seven-year-old academy student. It was the face of a war veteran, a seasoned shinobi who had seen too much for their mind to handle. Shikamaru had no reason whatsoever to look anything like it – and yet, here Iruka was.

 

In the end, he found Shikamaru inside his classroom.

 

Iruka heard his labored breathing even before he laid eyes on him; the boy was huddled together with the wall at his back, eyes clenched shut and apparently struggling for control. It looked wrong, happening to such a young child, and Iruka crouched down next to him immediately.

 

“Shikamaru? Come on, look at me.” He kept his voice reassuring and calm, trying to get through to his student. He reached out to him, placing a hand on Shikamaru's shoulder – only to pull back as the boy recoiled from his touch.

 

His eyes widened in surprise. Carefully, he settled down a few feet away from Shikamaru, making sure he wouldn't be able to touch him, even accidentally. He felt cold, all of a sudden.

 

Softly, he started speaking, as soothing and calm as he managed. Shikamaru didn't react, but he hadn't expected him to. So he kept talking, giving Shikamaru the time he needed to come back to his senses.

 

Did he even know where he was at the moment?

 

“It's alright, Shikamaru. We're at the academy, remember?” Shikamaru still didn't look at him, but his words seemed to have some kind of effect, at least.

 

“D-danger-”

 

“You're safe. There's nothing here that could hurt you, and I'm here.” He smiled, even though his student couldn't see it right now. He had barely finished his sentence when Shikamaru shook his head forcefully.

 

“No! He was in danger, I had to. Had to-” He clenched his teeth after that, his body still trembling uncontrollable.

 

Iruka frowned at that, bemused. That's right; he had attacked his classmate just as she'd been about to spar with Naruto. None of the battles before had triggered any reaction, just this one. Could that be it? Shikamaru had, for some reason, thought Naruto had been in danger and had – to put it mildly – overreacted to it? But that left the question: Why?

 

As far as Iruka knew, the two children had never spent much time together. Naruto was alone more often than not – Iruka would have noticed, had he befriended one of his classmates. So why would Shikamaru react this strongly, if he didn't even know the other boy all that much?

 

Besides, no matter who the sparring partners were, an ordinary academy spar could hardly be mistaken as dangerous. Iruka cared deeply about his students, and as long as he was watching, he wouldn't let anyone get hurt. Not if he could help it.

 

And yet, for some reason Shikamaru had felt like his classmate had been in danger.

 

“Everything's fine, Shikamaru. Naruto is safe, I promise.” Finally, his words seemed to register, and Shikamaru stilled just a little, indicating he was finally able to listen to Iruka.

 

“We're at the academy, and we just had a little sparring session. Naruto was never in any danger, do you understand?”

 

Eventually, Shikamaru's rapid breathing slowed down to what sounded like muffled sobs – Iruka wasn't sure what had been worse.

 

Then-

 

“I- I could have.”

 

His voice was hoarse, his words barely understandable, but it was a start. At least he knew he wasn't alone. Taking a deep breath, Shikamaru seemed to calm himself enough to force out whatever he had been about to say.

 

“I- I could have killed her.”

 

Iruka didn't answer. He wasn’t sure Shikamaru would believe that Fuki had never been in any danger, not as long as Iruka was there. At least his student's words made it clear just how unintentional the attack had been. The kid sounded terrible, his voice a shade of disbelieving horror – one he never wanted to hear from a seven-year-old ever again.

 

“Fuki is fine, Shikamaru,” Iruka answered carefully. “You didn't hurt her.”

 

Even so, Iruka would have to be careful from now on. It didn't matter if Shikamaru had acted unintentionally or not, he had threatened another student and could have, in only a short unsupervised moment, injured her – fatally, even. No matter how much Iruka wanted to help him, he wouldn't do anything that jeopardized his other students.

 

He needed to know what exactly had happened, otherwise he wouldn't be able to do anything. So he asked, his voice gentle, with no trace of accusation in it: “What happened, Shikamaru?”

 

It was like some kind of switch had been flipped and Shikamaru stilled. He looked up to meet Iruka's gaze, but his expression wasn't what he had expected. He looked startled – that much was understandable – but Iruka could feel alarm bells ringing when he noted the glimmer of fear – of panic – in his student's eyes.

 

It was different from before, where Shikamaru had been stuck in his own head and panicked because of something that wasn't there. No, he seemed to be afraid of him, his teacher. Iruka tried to convince himself that maybe, Shikamaru simply didn't recognize him, too caught up in the aftermath of his panic attack.

 

Still, he leaned back a little more, giving Shikamaru more space.

 

But before he could do anything else his student surprised him yet again. Because in the matter of seconds, all emotion in Shikamaru's eyes was gone, hidden behind a wall. Perplexed, he nearly missed the boy starting to speak, quietly, but finally coherent.

 

“Iruka-sensei, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, but it won't happen again.” The statement was mechanical, oddly void of emotion. Iruka wouldn't let it go this fast, of course.

 

“Shikamaru, please. You can talk to me.” He smiled at the boy, whose eyes were fixed on some point on Iruka's shoulder. “What happened?”

 

Shikamaru hesitated, shifting around uncomfortably. “I had a, a nightmare. Last night,” he admitted quietly. “I've been jumpy all morning. Didn't know it was this bad though.”

 

Iruka blinked. He didn't believe one second that a mere nightmare could cause a panic attack to this extent but he didn't question it. It wouldn't help either of them if Shikamaru couldn't trust him, so he accepted his student's words without protest.

 

“What was the nightmare about?” he asked instead, keeping his voice gentle. For a moment, it was quiet.

 

“War.” The answer was silent, barely audible and spoken with a note of bitterness that sent a chill down Iruka's spine.

 

Shikamaru's eyes had wandered to the floor again.

 

Iruka was completely in over his head. He simply didn't know how to talk to him – not like he would to a normal child his age, that much was certain. But he couldn't use what he knew about traumatic stress either. As much as Shikamaru looked like it at the moment, he was no traumatized shinobi, no soldier, so Iruka couldn't treat him like one.

 

Softly, he offered, “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Shikamaru shook his head, not hesitating a second. Abruptly he stood up, supporting himself with the wall while doing so. A moment later he stood in front of Iruka, eyes finally meeting him properly.

 

“I'm sorry, Iruka-sensei. It won't happen again.” Shikamaru was repeating himself, but this time, he sounded nearly like his normal self again.

 

Iruka didn't buy it one second.

 

“I feel better now. Again, I'm sorry for interrupting the lesson. Can I go?” The question came sudden and Iruka had barely nodded in confirmation when Shikamaru walked to the door, just a bit too quickly to look casual.

 

“Shikamaru,” Iruka called after him before he could reach the door. “Take care of yourself. And please, talk to someone.”

 

Hesitation, then a curt nod. Just a moment later, Iruka was alone. From his place on the floor, Iruka sighed. What had just happened?

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry for the wait, but I just didn't feel up to it last week. My rabbit died, and I had a few really awful days because of it... I'm getting better, though.
> 
> Well, no Gaara this time, but I had fun writing this chapter! ...Sorry Shikamaru! 
> 
> Well, what did you think? Leave a review and cheer me up, please? :)
> 
> ~Gwen


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

A few days later, Gaara found himself sitting in front of the wall framing the training grounds, waiting for his siblings and Baki to arrive.

 

True to his word, Yashamaru had talked to Rasa about his request; who had agreed, the only condition being that Gaara wouldn't perform any less during his regular training. Gaara wasn't too worried about that – he wouldn't exactly join in on his siblings' training for a while anyway. 

 

As opposed to his siblings, who had learned under him for years already, Baki didn't have any experience with him yet, so he would slowly test out what Gaara could handle without neglecting his siblings to do so.

 

Gaara was younger than both of them, had been trained by someone else and had the additional component of Shukaku to consider. All in all, it would take a while for his teacher to get a grip on him.

 

It didn't matter, not to Gaara. He had been given a chance to build up a bond with his siblings earlier this time around, and he would seize it. He knew he had to be patient about it.

 

It wasn't long until his siblings stepped on the field, walking just slightly behind Baki, with Temari wearing a guarded expression while Kankurō somehow managed to look both scared and sulky.

 

Apparently, Baki had told them in advance who would be joining them, and they weren't happy about it. Baki came to a halt in the center of the training grounds, nodding to Gaara in greeting.

 

“Gaara-sama.” Turning to his siblings, he instructed them to do their usual warm-up routine, before stepping aside, standing a few steps beside Gaara to watch.

 

His siblings' movements were awkward, to say the least. They were probably quite above average, considering their age, and Gaara was sure Baki had done a brilliant job so far training them. But for him, who had seen their full potential already, had seen who both of them would grow up to be? What skills they would show in the future? It was strange.

 

It didn't take long for Kankurō and Temari to complete their routine and Baki announced his plans for today: they would work on their individual techniques, namely Kankurō's puppets and Temari's fans. His siblings hurried to fetch their respective tools – and Gaara did a double take.

 

What Temari was carrying wasn't her usual weapon, nor a smaller version of it to fit her younger body. They were fans alright, but they were small, designed to be fought with in a pair and much, much lighter than her giant iron fan. 

 

He didn't comment, just watched passively as Temari wielded the fans experimentally. The way Baki had talked suggested that both of his siblings had been training with their weapons for a while now. For her not to have developed a feeling for them yet was not a good sign.

 

The fans laid in her hands awkwardly, and as Baki instructed her to channel her chakra to attack one of the training dummies, Gaara realized what the problem was.

 

His sister reached back widely, a look of utter concentration on her face, and put all her strength in the blow she was delivering with both arms. The blast of wind her fans created was wild and uncontrolled: when it hit the dummy most of the force was wasted, missing the target in all directions.

 

Temari watched the little damage she had caused with furrowed brows, clearly frustrated with her performance. It was obvious this wasn't the first time it had happened.

 

“Your control is still lacking, Temari-sama. You won't be able to do much damage if you can't concentrate the force of your blow in one point.” While stern, their teacher didn’t sound disappointed or frustrated. As strict as Baki could be, he was a good teacher and Gaara didn't blame him for not realizing the real problem.

 

He – understandably – assumed it was accuracy Temari was lacking, that it was a matter of chakra practice. Gaara knew better. The problem wasn't Temari's precision, wasn't her chakra control – it was her strength.

 

With her wind affinity, it had been fairly certain she would be taught the usage of fans – just like puppeteering, it was one of Suna's traditional fighting styles.

 

But quite frankly, the two weapons Temari was holding at the moment couldn't be more impractical for her. Temari didn't have too little chakra control, rather, she had too much strength and was relying on it too much.

 

The massive blast of wind she could create was simply too much for the tiny fans to handle: It was the reason she fought better with a single, giant one. It could direct the wind much more efficiently, but since it required quite a lot of physical strength, it wasn't favorable for everyone. Especially for shinobi who relied more on speed than strength.

 

The mistake was easy to make: At ten, Temari didn't look like she would base her fighting style on force rather than agility. Gaara stood up from his position near the wall and walked towards the building next to the grounds.

 

The one containing Suna's weapon arsenal and military equipment for training purposes.

 

* * *

 

When Gaara, youngest son of the Kazekage and jinchūriki of Suna, didn't react to his call and continued to leave the training grounds, Baki let him go with only a tiny irritated scowl. When the boy's caretaker had talked to him and the Kazekage about his request, he hadn’t known what to think. He’d never before expressed the wish to train with his siblings, after all.

 

The benefit was obvious: The sooner the three siblings started to train together, the sooner they would grow used to – and learn to depend on – each other. It was necessary in order to form a functional team, and practically speaking, it probably hadn't been smart to keep them separated for as long as they did.

 

On the other hand there was the sheer uncertainty surrounding Gaara. No one knew what to do with the kid.

 

A part of Baki told him that he didn't have anything to worry about. He was a trained jōnin and Gaara was, well, a child. He constantly had to remind himself not to underestimate the kid. He was talking about a jinchūriki here and several people had already fallen victim to his lack of control over the demon, civilians and shinobi alike.

 

Who knew why he suddenly decided to spend more time with his siblings, little more but strangers to him.

 

But apparently, he wouldn't have had to worry after all. It seemed quite clear to him that Gaara didn't have any intention to join them, since he got bored after only a few minutes. It had been a whim, nothing more.

 

Shaking his head, he concentrated back on his students. Kankurō had already connected his chakra threads with the puppet, wearing a scowl that had nothing to do with Gaara. He complained about the quality of the training puppets regularly and quite frankly, Baki had to agree. Not only were their joints worn-down, their weapons old-fashioned or dysfunctional, they were also not in harmony with Kankurō's fighting style.

 

The training puppets were only used until the puppeteer would build their own – or find an old one that fit their needs, and improve it – which was the reason for them being as old as they were.

 

Luckily it wouldn't take long for Kankurō to finish his first project. All three of them had enough of it, Kankurō and Baki of the inefficient training sessions and Temari of Kankurō's regular whining, as she called it.

 

Baki was above that, of course.

 

Naturally.

 

But the real problem was his oldest student, Temari. She had started out promising, showing a strong affinity for wind – one of the reasons Baki had been assigned their teacher. What she was lacking was chakra control. Baki had thought Suna's traditional fans would be a good fit for her, but she couldn't seem to master even basic control over them.

 

If she didn't show any improvement soon, Baki would have to rethink his training methods. Maybe he had been wrong, maybe she simply didn't have talent with a weapon. It wasn't rare for shinobi to prefer fighting with techniques that didn't require a weapon to use them.

 

Temari had potential, and Baki blamed himself as a teacher for not having unlocked it yet.

 

A gasp from Temari and a defensive, barely audible growl from Kankurō dragged him out of his thoughts. Gaara was approaching them.

 

Or rather, he was approaching Temari. Instinctively, Baki took a step towards his student, but didn't intervene just yet. There would be no harm to at least find out what the kid wanted. He hoped.

 

But what was he carrying? Baki did a double take.

 

Was that a fan?

 

True enough, in Gaara's arms, making him look ridiculously small, was an iron fan, too small to use for a grown shinobi, but immense in the hands of a seven-year-old.

 

Astounded, Baki watched as Gaara held out the fan to Temari, who stared at him, not reacting.

 

“Try it.”

 

The red-head's voice was quiet, but the way Temari flinched he might as well have yelled. She grabbed for the fan, dropping the smaller ones in the process. Had they been real weapons rather than old training tools, Baki would have scolded her.

 

For just a second, Baki could have sworn he could detect a shimmer of hurt on Gaara's face, but it was gone so quickly, he wondered if he had imagined it. His siblings' reactions to him weren't new.

 

Temari's eyes darted to him for a second, before she stared straight ahead and took the correct position, preparing to follow her brother's request.

 

Baki took in her posture, noting the too big size of the fan in relation to Temari's body size. She wouldn't be able to efficiently wield the weapon, since she couldn't muster the strength it needed. Not only was the fan designed for someone taller, the material made the fan a great deal heavier than its smaller counterparts.

 

He wasn't sure what Gaara's intention was, but what could be the harm-

 

An enormous gust of wind burst from the force of Temari's strike, and his mind went blank. It was securely guided by the iron fan to hit the target, and blew it away, smashed to pieces.

 

For a moment, it was silent. All of them, excluding Gaara, stared at the remains of the dummy, while said red-head stepped back, sitting down in his previous position as if nothing had happened.

 

Kankurō had all but forgotten his puppet.

 

“Woah! Temari, that was awesome! How did you do that?”

 

“Baki-sensei?”

 

He turned his eyes to Temari, who was looking at him wide-eyed – surprised by her own strength.

 

“Well.” He cleared his throat, composing himself and regaining his usual professionalism.

 

“My apologies, Temari-sama. It seems I made a miscalculation.” Before he continued, he eyed Temari's grip on the fan, and asked: “How does it feel?”

 

Temari blinked, then retook her position and furrowing her brows, assessing her stance.

 

“Better than the small ones. It's a bit heavy, but it's- it's easier to balance, and I can use more force when I have both hands on it, instead of one fan for each.” Baki nodded, accepting her judgment easily. It wasn't hard to see how much better she was handling the iron fan.

 

“Very well. I suggest you test out the fan for now. You'll have to get used to the different size and weight. I will show you a few new routines later, for now try to get a bit more comfortable with it.”

 

Temari nodded obediently, the gleam in her eyes betraying her excitement. She clearly couldn't wait to test out her new weapon. Baki nearly felt sorry for Kankurō. He just hoped Temari wouldn't cause more damage on the training grounds than necessary.

 

His eyes wandered to the boy sitting next to him. He hadn't taken his eyes off of his siblings, following their every move.

 

How had he known?

 

Somehow, Gaara had recognized the exact problem Temari had had with her previous weapons after watching her for only a few minutes. Deep in thought, Baki only paid half attention to his older students (something that had never happened before, as long as he had trained them).

 

Maybe taking on a third student hadn't been such a bad decision after all.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later and already on his way back across the training grounds, Gaara was firmly planning to spend the rest of his day locked up in his room, recovering from his not very successful attempt to socialize, when a barely audible sound from behind stopped him.

 

“Ehm.”

 

He turned around, facing his sister. She stood a few steps away from him, looking ready to bolt. Her anxiety was obvious, and he could see Kankurō a great distance behind her, staring at his sister with a mixture of incredulity and fear.

 

Not knowing what to say, he met Temari's eyes – his sister immediately looked away – and waited.

 

“I- I-” She shifted on her feet nervously, took a deep breath, and blurted out, “I just wanted to say thanks! F-For the fan!”

 

Stunned, Gaara looked at her with wide eyes, before nodding. “You're welcome.”

 

Seemingly having used up all of her courage, Temari shot him one last, fearful look and ran off to Kankurō. Neither of them looked back, but Gaara couldn't help but smile, hesitantly.

 

He still had a long way to go, but it was a start.

 

* * *

 

Surprisingly enough, when Shikamaru walked the distance between the academy and his home, Naruto was waiting for him. In all honestly, after what happened at the academy, Shikamaru had expected to have lost all remaining chance he might have had to befriend the boy. Was he wrong?

 

As soon as Naruto spotted him – leaning against a house wall, looking bored and jittery – he straightened up, looking at Shikamaru with a fake-neutral expression that did a bad job hiding his curiosity.

 

“Hi.”

 

Shikamaru blinked, taken aback. “Hey.”

 

Naruto seemed to be searching for something in Shikamaru's gaze, and hesitated.

 

“Are you ok? You were being weird at the academy.”

 

Someone else might have been insulted (or annoyed, at least), but Shikamaru didn't bat an eyelash at Naruto's bluntness.

 

“Yeah, I'm fine. I wasn't feeling well this morning, but- I mean, at the academy I just kind of.” He trailed off, not sure what to say. To say he had 'snapped' sounded too aggressive and he didn't want Naruto to start avoiding him.

 

“Why'd you stop only my battle? You didn't do anything before. And I totally would've beaten her, y'know!”

 

Shikamaru didn't answer immediately.

 

“I was, well, I mean-” He sighed, frustrated. And he was supposed to be a genius. It was hard, talking to Naruto. He had to pay attention to what he was saying, had to estimate their boundaries.

 

With the older Naruto there hadn't been boundaries, so he couldn't be more insecure about it.

 

“Look, this might sound weird, but I thought- I thought you might get hurt. Not that you'd lose,” he hurriedly added as Naruto started to protest. “Just that, something might happen, and you-” He broke off with a frustrated groan. He was terrible at this.

 

Apparently, Naruto thought so too, since he was staring at him bemused.

 

Then-

 

“Why would you care?”

 

Why would he...?

 

“Of course I'd care! Naruto, you're-” He stopped with a sigh, dragging his hands over his face in frustration. He tried again, calmer this time.

 

“Look, Naruto. Can we be friends?”

 

There. Blunt and direct, probably the easiest way to deal with Naruto, no matter his age.

 

Before the other boy could answer, he added, “I mean, can we at least try? I know, you must think I'm a bit, well, weird,” to put it mildly, “but we can, I don't know. Hang out a bit? Get to know each other? Chōji too, if you don't mind. What do you think?”

 

Shikamaru waited tensely as Naruto blinked, looking perplexed.

 

Finally-

 

“Are you serious?” Naruto looked at him frowning, hesitant. “Cause if this is a joke-”

 

Fighting down a wave of fury, he answered, “No. I'm serious.”

 

Slowly, Naruto started to smile, blooming into a wide grin in almost no time.

 

“Sure! Do you wanna go get ramen? Or we could, uh! I can show you my place if you want! When are we meeting Chōji?”

 

Shaking his head, Shikamaru laughed softly, unnoticed by Naruto. His friend. He should have known, nothing around Naruto was ever complicated, not if you didn't make it complicated.

 

Making their way to Ichiraku's, Shikamaru strolled carefree next to a chattering Naruto, fighting a grin as he was only short of being dragged forwards, too slow for Naruto's liking.

 

At once, the day seemed considerably brighter than only a few minutes ago.

 

* * *

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I had a stressful week and wanted to make my two cuties happy! They really deserve a break, don't they?
> 
> Special thanks to sparrow_hawk13, RandomAsRainbows, Keel, Loria_in_eternity, greenkangaroo, megane, daemoninwhite and Selbstzehrer for reviewing on the last chapter! 
> 
> Another thing, I'm pretty sure most of you noticed that I don't have a beta for this story. But honestly, I've reached the point where I think I might need one... I'm not sure yet, but if possible I think I'd like to have two: one who only concentrates on spelling, grammar and so on (also, colloquialisms... my worst weakness) and one who pays extra attention to the story continuity, and whether or not I keep the characters, well, in character. Obviously, for the second one I'd need someone who really knows about Naruto canon, and can help if I mess up about a character, a backstory or whatever.
> 
> If someone is interested, let me know per PM or something (you might wanna come over to ff.net for that... can you send PMs on here? But like I said, I'm not sure yet, maybe I'll change my mind after all. Thanks a lot!
> 
> Please leave a review and let me know what you think!
> 
> ~Gwen
> 
> PS: Visit me on tumblr as 'xxgwenstacyxx'!


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

During the last few days, Shikamaru had allowed himself to relax, to come to peace with his situation and to take the time to reunite with his family and friends. He had needed the break, had been too restless and uneasy to think any further than getting through each day.

 

But not anymore.

 

Now that Shikamaru could think clearly for the first time since he had arrived in the past, he had to start thinking about the safety of the entire village. It was the downside to his intelligence – too much depended on him. And neglecting his duty simply wasn't an option.

 

His friends would have to wait.

 

He hated it, hated it more than anything, but he knew his friends from Before wouldn't expect anything less of him.

 

The problem was that even though he knew he had to act as soon as possible to stop the train-wreck that was the timeline he had come from, he couldn't do anything without more information. He had been seven years old the last time, he had no idea about Konoha's current politics, no idea about anything except the key events that would happen in the future.

 

It was the reason Shikamaru was currently perched in the shadow of the building opposite the Hokage residence, suppressing his chakra signature and observing the shinobi guarding the building.

 

With the Hokage still in his office the security wasn’t as tight as it could have been, but still, it wouldn’t be easy to sneak in without anyone noticing. The Hokage residence contained many of the forbidden scrolls and documents of the village, which was the reason Shikamaru started his search here, rather than the archives or the Hokage's office.

 

Since both were located in the administrative part of the academy, they were far more accessible – and much easier to get into for a spy. Shikamaru doubted the information he was looking for would be out in the open like that.

 

Contemplating his next course of action, he quickly reviewed his current skill-set. He had no problem keeping his chakra signature hidden, so at least he wouldn't have to worry about someone sensing him. As annoying as it was, it helped that his chakra levels were much lower than he was used to.

 

He wouldn't be able to use most of his techniques (after all, he hadn't found the time to start training yet), but since he didn't plan to fight anyone, he hoped he wouldn't have to rely on his fighting skills too much.

 

With just a bit of chakra enhancement, Shikamaru had been able to eavesdrop on the guards outside. Unlike ANBU, they weren't drilled to perform their duty stoically, so every time the patrol made their rounds, he could listen in on their short conversations.

 

Closing his eyes in concentration, he formed the necessary hand seal for the Camouflage Technique – and immediately dispelled it, as soon as the chakra drain kicked in.

 

He cursed, furious with himself.

 

If used correctly, the Camouflage Technique would reflect the light around the user's body with chakra inflections, while at the same time erasing their scent and shadow. It was one of the most useful covert techniques and an A-ranked one at that. It wasn't surprising that Shikamaru couldn't use it at the moment, and he was angry at himself for trying.

 

Changing tactics, he sighed and settled back to wait for the lone guard patrol circling the building every few minutes. In addition to their rounds, they would interrupt their patrol every half hour to check in with the guards stationed inside the residence.

 

Once the patrol completed another round, Shikamaru observed the shinobi carefully – seemingly a chūnin, her reddish-brown hair short and unruly – and formed the hand seals for the Transformation Technique.

 

His Henge was flawless, as far as he could tell, and Shikamaru was glad that at least basic techniques functioned more or less effortlessly.

 

As soon as the shinobi disappeared around the corner, he crossed the distance between his hiding place and the opposite building, keeping to the shadows and making use of the stationed guards' blind spots. The residence was huge, and too many capable shinobi would be wasted in placing guards all around the building.

 

As far as security was concerned, Konoha tended to slack off in times of peace. Admittedly, most enemy shinobi would most likely fail to even get past the outer walls unnoticed, but that wasn't an excuse.

 

While sneaking into the building, Shikamaru sensed for the other guards' chakra signatures, hoping he could avoid any confrontations. He had been worried at first. Worried he wasn't ready for a task like this, worried the incident from the academy would repeat, would get him caught, arrested by his own village.

 

In reality, he hadn't been quite this calm in all the time he had spent in the past. He wasn't tense, wasn't on edge as he had been at the academy. Instead, he felt completely at ease, was excited, if anything.

 

Making his way down the dimly lit hallways, abruptly turning whenever he felt someone nearing his position, Shikamaru started to search for the storage room.

 

Gritting his teeth, he concentrated fully on his perception, sending out his senses as far as he could; his range was immensely limited and the number of times he just barely managed to avoid a guard patrol was alarming.

 

A chakra signature brushed his senses just down the hallway and his eyes widened, he couldn't turn back, the path behind him was already too long, he would be seen before he could take a turn-

 

Smoothing his expression, Shikamaru kept going. Without so much as slowing his steps, he began weaving a genjutsu, walking towards the shinobi like he had every right to be here. He was decent at genjutsu, no master in any sense, and luckily for him, most of them didn't need a lot of chakra to work.

 

“Hey!”

 

The guard had spotted him. Confidently, he met the shinobi's eyes as they crossed the distance between them.

 

“What are you doing here? Our next check-in isn't for another-” He blinked, taken aback. Frowning, he shook his head. When he looked back to Shikamaru, his eyes were narrowed, showing his confusion.

 

“Sorry, my mistake. Any problems?”

 

“No incidents. Everything's quiet,” Shikamaru answered with the patrol's voice.

 

A nod, then the guard walked past Shikamaru to continue his round. “I'll see you in half an hour.”

 

Not quite able to hide his smirk, Shikamaru set out in the opposite direction. Admittedly, that hadn't been half as difficult as he had anticipated. A simple genjutsu to alter the other guard's sense of time and a basic Henge – nothing more was necessary to break into one of the most guarded buildings within Konoha? Please.

 

Shikamaru had to think about the story Naruto had told him, about how he'd learned to form his infamous Shadow Clones. At the time, he hadn't believed a word. A twelve-year-old academy student managed to steal a forbidden scroll without anyone noticing until much later? Even worse, they hadn't managed to find him before he had the time to learn one of its techniques?

 

Now, he had second thoughts.

 

Shikamaru quickened his pace and kept heading to where he suspected the documents to be stored.

 

* * *

 

Standing in front of the closed door and rubbing his eyes, Iruka wished he could spend his evening anywhere but here.

 

On a normal day, he would have been at home right now, relaxing and preparing his lessons for the next day. Maybe he would have paid a visit to Naruto, if only to check up on him after their talk the other day at Ichiraku's. His student had seemed fine at the academy, but with Naruto, he could never be sure.

 

Instead, another student was currently occupying his mind.

 

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Shikamaru’s episode ever since he had left the academy, trying to find the next most logical course of action. He wanted nothing more than to help his student, but how could he do that best?

 

Right now, standing in front of his house and about to have a talk with his parents, Iruka still wasn't convinced he had made the right decision. Was he betraying Shikamaru's trust?

 

In any other situation he would have talked personally to him about it, would have tried to find out more and, if possible, convinced his student to let him help without involving someone else. As teacher, Iruka wanted his students to be able to trust him, wanted to be seen as someone they could talk to about their problems.

 

Besides, Shikamaru's behavior wasn't typical for victims of abuse, but Iruka couldn't be sure nothing had happened at home to make him act the way he did.

 

Iruka frowned at the thought. He didn't want to think about it – Shikaku Nara was one of Konoha's most respected shinobi – but he wasn't the type of adult who was blinded by a person's status. Sadly, he knew that no matter how great and honorable someone could act in public, in private they could be an entirely different person.

 

And as much as Iruka hoped it wasn't the case, if it turned out to be true, if his parents were the reason for Shikamaru's odd behavior, his visit could harm the boy even more. Iruka sighed, finally knocking on the door. In the end, he didn't have much of a choice.

 

Were Shikamaru a civilian, the situation would be entirely different.

 

Unfortunately, he wasn't. He was the son of one of Konoha's elite jōnin, and as the 'incident' proved, in his unstable condition he could be a danger to himself and others. He couldn't risk his other students' safety by keeping the matter quiet, so avoiding Shikamaru's parents would do more harm than good in the long run.

 

Iruka waited patiently, hearing footsteps nearing the door.

 

The door opened, and in front of him stood Yoshino Nara, a surprised look on her face.

 

“Iruka-sensei? Is something the matter? We didn't expect you.”

 

“Yes, my apologies, Yoshino-san. May I come in?”

 

“Of course. Would you like something to drink?” She stepped aside, closing the door behind Iruka and leading him into their living room.

 

“No, thank you, Yoshino-san. I wasn't planning to bother you for long. I came to talk about your son.”

 

Immediately, her demeanor changed. She sighed exasperated, frowning. Iruka watched her reaction carefully.

 

“Did he sleep in class again? This clan, I swear. He's just like his father.” The last part probably wasn't meant for Iruka, but Yoshino didn't lower her voice. “He isn't home right now, but I'm going to talk to him about it when he comes back.”

 

“Oh, that won't be necessary. I actually wanted to talk to him myself, if that wouldn't be a problem?”

 

Yoshino frowned at that, but didn't protest. “If you think that would be best.”

 

In reality, Iruka was glad that Shikamaru wasn't home. He had hoped to get an opinion of his parents first, before he was confronted with his student again.

 

A new voice from the doorway made Iruka look up. “Iruka-sensei.”

 

The head of the Nara clan nodded, and Iruka returned the greeting with a slight bow. “Shikaku-san. My apologies, I'm here to have a talk about your son.”

 

“So I've heard.” A sigh, sluggish and so much like his son's, Iruka had to stifle a laugh. “Troublesome.”

 

“I'd like to ask a few questions, if you don't mind.”

 

Shikaku nodded for him to continue, “Go ahead.”

 

“Alright.” Iruka paused. He knew he had to be careful; Shikaku Nara hadn't earned his rank for nothing, and he didn't want either of the couple to get suspicious before he decided to trust them. “How does Shikamaru behave at home? Especially lately.” _Has he done anything out of the ordinary?_

 

Yoshino sighed, frowning. “He's just as lazy as at the academy, if that’s what you mean. It's a chore to get him to do anything around here.” She shot her husband an irritated look, as if he was the one to blame. Struggling to suppress his amused smile, Iruka watched as one of Konoha's elite jōnin shifted uncomfortably under the stare of his wife.

 

“I take it from that you've already tried to break him out of that habit?” _Are you strict with him? Too strict?_

 

Yoshino snorted at that. “The day you'll get a Nara motivated is the day you'll catch an ANBU laughing. That kid is hopeless, you can't even threaten him with house arrest. He'll shrug and take a nap in his room.”

 

Iruka chuckled. That sounded just like Shikamaru.

 

Shikaku spoke next. “As strange as it sounds, it would be easier if his education was at stake. You should know as well, Iruka-sensei. He can do what is asked of him at the academy.”

 

Iruka sighed. “I'm aware. He may be too lazy to take his tests, but Shikamaru is too smart for his own good. Maybe it would be better for him if he actually had to make an effort, once in a while.”

 

“His graduation isn't in danger, at this rate, is it?”

 

Iruka had to laugh at that. “No, I wouldn't worry about that. I don't know how he's doing it, but somehow he always does just the bare minimum of what is required to pass his class.”

 

Yoshino rolled her eyes but Shikaku smirked, looking amused, if not proud of his son.

 

“Another question, if you don't mind. Is he trained specially? Some children start to show basic techniques from their clan at this age, and some families,” like the Hyūga, “train their children even younger.” _Are you demanding too much from your son?_

 

“Well, we have been practicing a bit with his Shadow Manipulation, but he's not really enthusiastic about learning new techniques. He seems to be enjoying it while we're at it, but he wouldn't go out of his way to train by himself. Or at the academy, of course.”

 

“I see. One last thing. Do you know who he's friends with?”

 

Yoshino frowned, hesitating. “Well, Chōji is Shikamaru's best friend, obviously. They've been extremely close, it’s hard not to see it. And he's getting along with Ino. We meet up with their parents from time to time, the three of them spend time together then.

 

“He's not really trying to make friends beside them, as far as I know. Except,” she paused, sharing a look with her husband. “He's- well, he mentioned Naruto a few days ago. We never saw them together – he certainly hasn't brought him home so far – but the way he talked implied they'd been friends for a while now. We- we suspect he might have kept it a secret from us, because he wasn't sure how we'd react.”

 

Iruka didn't need an explanation. He knew that one of the reasons Naruto had a hard time making friends was his treatment by adults. Many parents simply forbade their children to play with him, thus successfully isolating him more and more from the rest of the village.

 

“Why the question? Are you implying his behavior could be caused by a bad influence?”

 

“No! Not at all,” Iruka rushed to answer. No way would he be the reason Naruto lost his first real friend – he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

 

Luckily, the disbelief in Shikaku's question had been plain. The couple didn’t seem like the kind of parents that blamed everything on Naruto. Not that Iruka would have let them, in this case.

 

“In fact, he might turn out to be good for your son. He's incredibly energetic, who knows, maybe he'll rub off to Shikamaru.” He couldn't imagine Naruto, the little ball of energy that he was, spending time with him without it happening.

 

Iruka looked at the couple in front of him.

 

Up to this point, they had reacted just like a caring parent would be expected to. They had been exasperated when confronted with their son's laziness, but not overly so. They had never seemed angry with him, and never showed the intention to punish him.

 

Shikaku may seem rough at first glance, and Yoshino most definitely wasn't afraid to raise her voice at her son – or husband – if she thought it necessary, but Iruka hadn't felt like they'd tried to hide anything from him.

 

As far as he could tell – and Iruka liked to think he was a good judge of a person's character – Shikamaru's parents cared deeply about their son, and were concerned about his well-being before anything else.

 

“There's more,” Iruka admitted, deciding to put his trust in them.

 

“The real reason you came here?” Shikaku smirked at him, a teasing tone in his voice.

 

Iruka shook his head, laughing softly. “Can't compete with a jōnin commander, can I?”

 

“Well, Iruka-sensei?” Yoshino sounded worried. “What is this really about?”

 

Iruka hesitated. “Something happened. At the academy today.”

 

The couple listened attentively as Iruka explained the incident earlier that day. He told them about Shikamaru's violent reaction, explained how he suspected it to be to protect a friend of his, and described his breakdown afterwards in his classroom.

 

He left out the part where Shikamaru had leaked killing intent, not sure what to think of it himself just yet. When he finished, it was silent for a few moments.

 

Yoshino looked lost in thought, concern clouding her expression. Shikaku however didn't let anything show. He had gone stone-faced only few moments into Iruka's explanation.

 

Finally, Yoshino exchanged a glance with her husband, before addressing Iruka once more.

 

“Shikamaru has been acting a bit differently for a while now. It was obvious a few days ago, and a lot more subtle after that.”

 

“Different how?” This was what Iruka had hoped for. Maybe they would be able to get a step closer to the reason for his student's strange behavior.

 

“It's- it's hard to say. I think it started when he came home late a few days ago. He was-” She struggled for the right word. “Well, clingy, nearly? It was only for a moment, but he seemed incredibly relieved to see us.”

 

“Did he explain why he was late?”

 

“He did. He told us he was walking his friend home.” Her mouth twitched slightly. “He said Naruto was afraid to walk home alone in the dark.”

 

Iruka blinked. What?

 

As long as he had known Naruto, he'd never heard anything along those lines.

 

On the other hand, while he was technically still a teenager at seventeen, a child as young as Naruto undoubtedly saw him as an adult. Not only that, he was also one of the few people Naruto actually looked up to and respected, so maybe he wouldn't want Iruka to know about his 'weaknesses'.

 

Cold fear settled in the pit of his stomach. What else had he missed?

 

“Did- did something happen to him?” His question was sharp – determined to get answers – but he wasn't quite able to hide the slight tremor underlining his voice.

 

“Not as far as Shikamaru knows.”

 

That wasn’t good enough for Iruka, and his worry barely decreased at all.

 

“If I may, Iruka-sensei.” Shikaku met his gaze. “I don't think anyone in this village would dare to seriously harm Naruto. I'll admit, the villagers have been bold in the past, but they wouldn't risk physically harming him against the Third's orders.”

 

Letting out a deep breath, Iruka calmed his nerves. “My apologies. We were talking about Shikamaru.”

 

To Iruka's relief, Shikaku moved on without comment.

 

“That's not all. Shikamaru tends to zone out, lately. He pretends everything is normal, but he can't hide it from me as much as he'd like. He's tense, often. And I think he hasn't been sleeping as much.”

 

Yoshino frowned. “He hasn't?”

 

“He's not getting up – or at least leaving his room – earlier,” Shikaku allowed. “But have you seen him nap somewhere lately?”

 

She frowned. “No. I haven't.”

 

“He hasn't been sleeping at the academy either,” Iruka offered.

 

Answering Yoshino's surprised look, he added: “He's not paying attention either, for that matter. But still.”

 

“What do you think could have caused all this?”

 

“I'm not sure yet,” Iruka had to admit. “He told me it was just nightmares, but his behavior is much too extreme for that.”

 

“I agree.” Shikaku looked out of the window thoughtfully, clearly not taking in the view at all.

 

It was Iruka who spoke next.

 

“Do you think we should confront him? At the academy or here?”

 

“I don't think that would be best. We should observe, for now.”

 

Iruka frowned. “And do nothing? I don't like to say it, but Shikamaru could be dangerous the way he is now. To himself, as well as to others.”

 

“We could station an ANBU guard at the academy, if you'd prefer.”

 

Iruka huffed, slightly insulted. “I'm capable of protecting my students, thank you.” His irritation may have been unfounded, but Iruka couldn't help it.

 

“My apologies then. I didn't want to be offensive.”

 

Faced with Shikaku's sincere expression, Iruka couldn't help but feel childish. “No, I should apologize. I–”

 

“Nara-taichou.”

 

Iruka flinched in surprise, but Shikaku didn't bat an eyelash towards the ANBU currently standing in his living room.

 

“Eagle. Report?”

 

Iruka was surprised how quickly the atmosphere had changed. Shikaku radiated authority, stepping into his role as jōnin commander in a single moment.

 

“An alarm was triggered within the village borders.” The statement was incredibly vague, but the ANBU didn't offer any more information. Iruka's and Yoshino's presence forbid him to go into details, most likely.

 

Iruka blinked when it was Yoshino who spoke up next.

 

“And where exactly was that alarm?”

 

“I'm afraid that's classified.”

 

“Listen here. I couldn't care less about whatever business you have with my husband, but right now, my son is still outside. Well?”

 

Outwardly, the ANBU didn't show any reaction, but his answer came just a little too quickly. “No civilians are involved, Nara-san.”

 

With a huff, Yoshino turned to her husband. “Go. I think we were almost done here anyway.”

 

Nodding to his wife in acknowledgment, Shikaku addressed the ANBU. “Lead the way.”

 

The next moment, Iruka and Yoshino were alone.

 

She sighed, muttering what sounded suspiciously like 'Always the same with him', before smiling at Iruka tiredly.

 

“He didn't want to be rude.”

 

Iruka raised his hands defensively. “Oh, it's alright! I completely understand, don't worry.”

 

“Well, thank you for coming to us, in any case.”

 

“It was no trouble, really. I only want what's best for Shikamaru. We'll talk again when we've learned a bit more then, I suppose?”

 

Yoshino nodded, rising at the same time as Iruka. Her strained smile betrayed the stress she was under.

 

“I'll see you then, Yoshino-san.”

 

“Until then.”

 

Walking through the streets to his apartment, Iruka listened carefully for any possible commotion. Not picking up on anything, he simply hoped the emergency the ANBU had fetched Shikaku for wasn’t too important.

 

He had enough to worry about as it was.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Man. Last chapter I mentioned that I hoped to find two betas, if I'm lucky. Well, turns out I have 4 now. How did that happen? :'D
> 
> They're amazing, really! You won't have to put up with my stupid mistakes anymore, plus I've always got someone to share ideas with and to help me with the plot ^^ So, special thanks to PyrothTenka, darkerdeepdown, Igornerd and Damaged Ghost of an Angel! They're over at ff.net though, I don't think they have accounts here... ^^  
> Also, as always, thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter!
> 
> Not much more to say, really... Except... well, this chapter was a bitch to write. Don't ask me why, I had so much trouble with it! Well, let me know what you think! :)
> 
> ~Gwen


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

Inside the archives, peering over the dozens of shelves and storage units before him, Shikamaru felt smaller than he had in a long, long time.

 

As a chūnin he had been to the archives before, but as he rushed through shadowy aisles he had only a vague idea of how they were organized – it had been years, after all. He passed piles of mission reports, dusty and long forgotten, stacks of scrolls containing restricted or incomplete techniques and different kind of lockers of various sizes and security levels.

 

All of it would probably look quite a bit less intimidating with a height that reached more than his current three and a half feet.

 

Not that Shikamaru allowed himself to slow down.

 

It was tempting to poke around a bit, since everything around him had been destroyed in Pain's attack. At the time, losing a room full of documents had been a minor issue, since rebuilding the village had been the utmost priority.

 

But walking through the corridors in between the shelves, passing decades of knowledge and information – Shikamaru had to admit, the temptation was big. How many techniques had been forever lost, how many had never been completed because of Pain?

 

Thinking of it, it wasn't too far fetched to assume documents from Uzushio could be stored in the archives as well. Fūinjutsu scrolls were rare as it was, how many more had been destroyed on that day?

 

Unfortunately, Shikamaru couldn't risk staying any longer than he needed to find the particular documents he had come for – unless of course he wanted to spend some quality time with his favorite mind-reading would-be uncle. As much as he'd enjoy seeing Ino's father again, Shikamaru would appreciate the circumstances to be a little more pleasant than an all out interrogation session.

 

The cold temperatures of the room made Shikamaru shiver. And if he picked up the pace a few notches, it was of course completely coincidentally.

 

If his memory served him right, the most recent reports for long term missions were stored-

 

There!

 

Shikamaru smirked, coming to a halt in front of a long row of boxes. They were unlabeled – no reason to make it any easier for spies – and at first glance no safety measures were visible.

 

He hesitated. That in itself didn't mean anything. No moderately effective trap was visible after all, and in a place like this he had to expect a bit more. But the boxes weren't even closed: They lay open, just like the many other rows he had passed on his way.

 

He had expected high security lockers, a genjutsu maybe and at the very least a few traps. All safety precautions had been surprisingly lacking so far, but this? This couldn't be right. Stepping closer – and chakra enhancing his eyesight – he peered at the shelf without touching anything, slowly scanning the area around his target.

 

No pressure plates. No wires. Not even alarm seals.

 

He checked the box next, sensing for chakra lining in the material, uneven areas suggesting seals or other traps, anything.

 

He came up empty.

 

Frustrated, Shikamaru eyed the box warily. He was running out of time. Even if he ended up triggering some kind of mechanism, there was still a good chance for him to dispose of it before any of the guard patrol were alerted. But the longer he stayed, the more time he wasted, the shorter would be his time span.

 

Huffing in annoyance, he reluctantly accepted the risk and reached for the first folder slowly, carefully-

 

Nothing happened.

 

Gritting his teeth, Shikamaru glanced down at the folder he was holding. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

 

Not once had he expected everything to go so smoothly, with nothing happening, with everything being easy? Shikamaru didn't believe in luck and he should have run into difficulties the second he stepped into the room. Maybe his memories had been wrong, maybe he wasn't in the right place after all. It would explain the scarce security measures, would explain why he hadn't run into trouble so far. Shikamaru couldn't help the tiny spark of hope flickering up in his chest.

 

Body tense and senses alert, he flipped open the folder-

 

-and felt his heart sink, as Jiraiya's name glared up at him. Slowly but surely he was getting irritated.

 

He had found the right reports, why in all of the Five Nations would documents as important as these be out in the open and barely protected? What was the Hokage thinking! There was recklessness and then there was whatever this was supposed to be.

 

Contrary to what one would think after meeting the sage for the first time, Jiraiya was an incredibly capable shinobi and had managed to build a spy network that ran through the entirety of all five of the Great Shinobi Countries. Able to gather intelligence on people or organizations – namely, the Akatsuki – from almost everywhere, he was an asset not to be underestimated.

 

Which left the question – why didn't the Hokage protect the documents any better?

 

Shikamaru suppressed an urge to check for seals within the writing more than twice (there had to be something there!), and began to skim the most current report. A few pages in and his vague sense of foreboding had grown into icy dismay that only increased the further he got.

 

No way.

 

Casting the folder away, he grabbed a second one and looked it over as well. A third followed.

 

No. Way.

 

Well, Shikamaru thought, expression grave and unmoving – at least he had his answer now.

 

Jiraiya had expanded his network beyond the borders of the Wind Country, it said. Apparently, he had managed to plant a spy in Kiri, allowing him to keep an eye on the village's political situation. It wasn't of high priority: Kiri was still in midst of a civil war, its population split and its military too weak to pose a serious threat to Konoha. A commotion near Taki's border had alerted one of his contacts in Iwa, who couldn't give any details. Uninteresting, since Konoha was barely the only village to get into trouble now and again.

 

And on it went, short updates about his network, suspicious movements from other countries and comments on what to think of them.

 

Here and there, Jiraiya threw in some remarks, no doubt addressed to his old teacher. He commented on which country was best for a vacation this time of the year (apparently, it was Hachō) and where to find the most beautiful bathhouses – or those with the most beautiful visitors (Shimo. Shikamaru skipped the details.).

 

Nothing about the Akatsuki. None of its members were even mentioned.

 

Well, none of them other than Orochimaru. A side note stated his location was still unknown and Shikamaru had no doubt as to how unhappy Jiraiya and Hiruzen were about it. He wasn't quite sure how long it had been since Orochimaru deserted the village, but it was most likely he had already joined the Akatsuki. Jiraiya would not be able to track him down as long as Konoha didn't have its eyes on Akatsuki yet.

 

Assuming from the dates, Jiraiya sent in a report every three weeks. The latest had been added only a few days prior – it being stored in the archives this early after receiving it  proved of how little importance it was. Apparently, Konoha didn't have their eyes on any threats in particular and Jiraiya's network was mostly used to keep up to date on the other villages.

 

Shikamaru realized he had been staring at the paper in his hands without taking anything in. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.This development had been unexpected. His next course of action would have to be planned carefully. With Konoha as ignorant as it was, his steps would be limited to an extreme.

 

Right now, Shikamaru wanted nothing more than to meet up with Gaara.

 

Well, he also wanted to trash the entire archive, yell at the Hokage and lecture all high-ranking shinobi with him about how to properly run a Hidden Village. At this point, who even cared that it would probably get him arrested – either as infiltrator or as lunatic.

 

Still, Gaara was a close second.

 

Even though he had his family back, had Chōji and had even befriended Naruto, it simply wasn't the same. He couldn't really talk with any of them, none of them knew him like Gaara did, nor did they know about his situation.

 

He wanted to make sure that his friend was safe, wanted to exchange ideas and maybe, selfishly, take a moment together to mourn their comrades, to mourn Naruto. The Naruto only they remembered.

 

Shikamaru's head snapped up. He sensed movement from the outside. He tossed the folders back into the box, not bothering to put everything back into place and rechecked his Henge. He’d stormed towards the other end of the room just as the door burst open.

 

Figures materialized out of thin air, reached out to him, grabbing for him.

 

Typical. Right when he allowed to take a moment to himself he had to get caught. ANBU were so inconsiderate. And he couldn't afford to be captured. Not now that he wasn't sure where Konoha was standing, now that he had to reassess everything about his position.

 

At this point he wasn't even sure what Konoha would do to him. Having Shikaku as father didn't necessarily have to be a good thing. Maybe he would listen, maybe he could be bargained with, but it was just as possible for him to be biased towards him. If he thought he was an impostor, assumed he had somehow harmed his son, he couldn't hope for an open-minded conversation.

 

No, being captured simply wasn't an option right now.

 

He slipped through the door, pursuer hot on his tails, storming through the halls as fast as his legs could carry him. A turn left. Then another. He ran past closed doors, past other hallways, but didn't find what he was looking for, didn't find a damn window!

 

An ANBU cut him off just short of reaching a staircase. He turned around swiftly but wasn't fast enough. A chakra enhanced jump to dislocate the grip on his shoulder and he was running again, feet glued to the wall. He ran around a corner, startled more of his pursuers and barely managed to dodge them before fleeing through a yet empty hallway. Luckily for him, the ANBU hadn't had time to cover the entire building.

 

Another few turns, another hallway and a young kunoichi ran towards him – a regular guard, not ANBU. He kept running even as she yelled at him to stand down. His eyes were fixed on the exit behind her, finally, nearly within reach-

 

The kunoichi raised her arms, half-forming a seal and Shikamaru nearly cursed, not able to use any of his Shadow Techniques – too noticeable, too risky. A short burst of chakra towards his legs – their eyes met as he appeared in front of her – and he dropped to the ground. He hooked an arm around her ankles, rushed forward in another burst of speed. The guard stumbled to the floor and he didn't waste time, reached the exit as she jumped back to her feet.

 

Behind him, he could hear her call for backup.

 

Shikamaru nearly sighed, only mildly annoyed. Not that he had expected his pursuers to give up as soon as he exited the building. But hey, one can hope, right?

 

He was already gone, swept through the door and immediately headed towards Konoha's center. More ANBU would be stationed near the walls, intending to stop the intruder before leaving the village, so going the exact opposite way would throw them off at least slightly.

 

Buildings flew past him in a blur and the few villagers he came across didn't have time to spare a second glance before he was gone again. The empty streets didn't provide much cover and he could hear the ANBU catching up to him.

 

An earth wall shot out of the ground before him.

 

Seriously?

 

Shikamaru had felt the chakra building up with ease. Short bursts of chakra to boost his movements and he dodged each barrier before it could manage to slow him down. While he couldn't maintain the speed to completely outrun his pursuers, the limited, concentrated boosts would bring him out of danger and – hopefully – save his humble reserves for emergencies.

 

Absentmindedly Shikamaru wondered when his life had reached a point were being chased by a squad of ANBU set on capturing/interrogating/possibly agonizingly torturing him didn't qualify as an emergency anymore.

 

More and more villagers appeared on the streets: One of Konoha's marketplaces was just ahead. He passed shops, sales people praising their wares and trying to persuade customers. A child was clinging to their helpless looking father, crying. Shikamaru had to stifle a smirk as he spotted the father's shinobi vest in passing. Surprisingly, many ninja were hopelessly overwhelmed when it came to day to day life.

 

A jump to the side and he was running on the walls again, passing a particularly crowded part of the market. He avoided knocking over a couple that was standing to the side, blushing and not meeting each other's eyes. Up ahead an elderly woman was arguing with a shopkeeper – for a moment Shikamaru could hear the shouting, before he'd rushed past them.

 

A few more steps and he leapt to the ground again, making use of the slightly thinner crowd and trying to blend in, trying to shake off his pursuers.

 

Unfortunately, less and less people were coming their way and Shikamaru was starting to tire out. His lungs were burning from the strain and his muscles struggled to keep up with the unaccustomed exercise. He would have to end the chase soon or he'd certainly be captured.

 

Movement in front of him made Shikamaru skid to halt. He just barely managed to avoid the row of earth rising from the ground before him, small stone crumbs raining on his shoulders. A shriek pierced his ears from a few meters beside him while the distance between him and his pursuers melted away at an alarming rate.

 

His head snapped to the side as his brain caught up to what he had just heard: He didn't need more than a split second to spot the man – the civilian – lying on the ground (stunned, but not hurt please don't let him be hurt), knocked over by the attack he himself had just dodged.

 

He thought he could hear yelling behind him (harsh, used to giving orders) but he had already leapt onto the rooftops, heading towards lesser used roads. Out in the open, easier to spot, to catch, but away from the crowds, away from any civilians.

 

Shikamaru had thought it would be logical to use the cover provided by the villagers; what he hadn't accounted for was ANBU not hesitating to put civilians at risk. What were they thinking?!

 

His eyes widened as he briefly lost his footing.

 

It couldn't be helped. He would have to wait until later to get angry at ANBU's carelessness, or he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the chakra letting him stick to the roof tiles. A turn to the left. He passed a few lesser known shops, jumped into a deserted alley to resurface above another row of buildings. Ahead of him, a tiny stall selling sweets next to a small maple tree.

 

Wait. He knew this neighborhood.

 

He changed directions, ducking into the narrow street next to the stall and through the window of an abandoned house in the split second that he was out of sight. Shikamaru didn't allow himself to linger and pushed onward, despite the exhaustion weighing him down. His body was about to reach its limit.

 

Out of the window on the other side of the building, not slowing down as he jumped back onto the rooftops. He could feel the ANBU behind him, could feel them getting closer.

 

Not much longer now. Only a bit further.

 

Instead of the path through the marketplace, he chose a street not far from one of the lesser used training grounds, the neighborhood rough and void of people. The village border was ahead of him, a less guarded place of the wall.

 

He nearly made it. A few more seconds.

 

Two more ANBU materialized out of thin air, blocking his path ahead. He skidded to a halt, dropping his body into a crouched position. His head snapped around, taking in the situation. Guards to his left. Buildings to his right, more ANBU approaching from the top. His chakra levels too low to even attempt to fight back or create an alternate escape route.

 

He was trapped.

 

“It's about damn time,” a familiar voice called out from behind. Shikamaru turned around, facing an unmasked Genma, ever present senbon in his mouth just the way he remembered.

 

“Well? Nothing to say, Miss? Or Mister,” he added, his tone suggesting he was just introduced to a fellow shinobi rather than being forced to chase them across half the village. “Why don't you drop the Henge? Unless of course you're the real one and the impostor is making themselves comfortable at HQ right now. In that case you should have let us know before we had to sprint here all the way from the Third's residence.”

 

Shikamaru didn't react.

 

Not bothered in the slightest, Genma smirked and approached slowly. “It was my day off too, you know. Let me tell you, it's no fun being plucked from the street and put in charge of chasing after some infiltrator when you planned to spend a quiet evening at home. So, why don't you just put your hands behind your head and come with us without a struggle? I think you've made enough trouble for today.” He took another step, shifting the senbon in his mouth seemingly absent-minded. As if Shikamaru didn’t know he could find it in his neck in a second’s notice.

 

Shikamaru rose to his feet, raising his hands slowly and visibly apart from each other. Not that he'd be able to even attempt busting himself out with a well chosen hand seal at this point, but they didn't know that.

 

Then he smirked.

 

The last thing he saw was Genma – and all shinobi within his field of vision with him – tense in anticipation before he let himself disintegrate into nothing. In another part of the town Shikamaru closed his eyes as his clone's memory merged with his own.

 

Everything hurt. His lungs felt like they were being stabbed with every breath he took and his muscles burned from overexertion. His mouth tasted like blood.

 

A deep breath.

 

Another.

 

Shikamaru couldn't believe his luck. Creating a clone had been a risk, but he had made the right decision. Even so, he didn't want to think about what could have happened had he not stumbled across that particular corner of the village; he was surprised he could remember it at all.

 

He and Chōji had explored the abandoned building when they were younger, the only reason he could think of it at all was because he could remember the stall outside: Chōji had talked him into coming back for the sweets for weeks afterwards, even though it was a part of town they'd normally avoid.

 

His breathing still hadn't returned to normal, and he couldn't do anything about the slight tremor rocking his body. It wasn't yet built for this kind of exercise and, in reality, he should probably be glad it hadn't shut down altogether during his escape from ANBU.

 

Shikamaru stepped closer to his front door, hesitating. There wasn't anything he could do about the muscle tremors, and his breathing was still a bit fast, but at least he wasn't gasping for breath anymore. Deciding his condition wouldn't improve much, even if he waited a few more minutes, he knocked on the door, allowing himself to breathe as if after a long sprint.

 

Only seconds later the door was thrown open.

 

“Shikamaru! Are you alright? Come inside.” His mother closed the door behind him – not without casting a wary glance outside – and looked her son over in the hallway. Her eyes narrowed at his heavy breathing, but her voice let nothing show but worry. “Where have you been?!”

 

“It's not like I missed my curfew or anything.” Shikamaru forced himself to scowl, ignoring the fact that it probably looked more like a pout on his younger face. Before his mother could answer, he added, “I saw an ANBU on my way home. He told me I should get off the streets as fast as I could. Did something happen?”

 

She closed her eyes for a moment. After a deep breath her body lost a bit of its tension. “I don't know. Your father was called into work a while ago, but they didn't tell me anything.” She scowled at that, irritated.

 

“And you didn't see anything? Apart from that ANBU?”

 

Shikamaru shook his head. “No, nothing.”

 

His mother sighed, rubbing her eyes. After a moment she looked up and gave Shikamaru a strained smile. “Just- just don't go outside the rest of the evening, would you? And don't worry about your father. He can handle himself just fine.”

 

Shikamaru smiled back, doing his best to ease his mother's worries. “Sure, Mom. I know.”

 

He collapsed on his bed only seconds after he entered his room. Dropping the Henge that hid the grime covering his entire body was only a small relief, and when he lifted his hand, he couldn't stop it from trembling. Physical exhaustion was bad enough, but coupled with chakra exhaustion? Shikamaru's entire body ached, the fatigue weighing him down like lead.

 

That could have gone better. A lot better.

 

He sighed, trying to ignore the fire still burning in his lungs. His eyelids were about to drop, his body desperate to sleep off the strain but he couldn't give in. At least until he managed to clean himself up a bit. He couldn't risk being found like this, sweaty and covered in dirt as he was.

 

Besides, he still had to think about what he had found out.

 

He hadn't realized how unaware Konoha was about, well, everything. He never would have guessed they hadn't even known about Akatsuki yet – or if they had, they hadn't deemed it important yet, saw them as nothing more than a harmless, peace-seeking organization from a small, war torn country.

 

It would be different had they at least some suspicion. Anonymous intel wouldn't have been trusted then either, naturally, but at least considered, at least investigated to be proven right – or wrong.

 

But with the way things were, with Konoha knowing nothing, an outrageous claim of the Akatsuki being a terrorist organization – one dangerous enough to pose a threat to not only Konoha, but all shinobi nations combined?

 

It did sound unbelievable, Shikamaru had to admit.

 

If he had some way of contacting Jiraiya, maybe he could point him in the right direction. But even as a fully-capable shinobi it was an achievement to track down the Sannin; especially if he didn't want to be found. In fact, it was probably easier to run into him by accident, traveling from village to village and visiting each bathhouse on the off chance of finding the right place.

 

No, Jiraiya wasn't an option either.

 

And the Akatsuki weren't even the worst of Shikamaru's problems. He could have prepared Konoha, could have told them what to expect, what they had to fear. In the worst case scenario, he would have even been ready to tell the truth about himself.

 

But right here, right now, everything he could tell Konoha would be new information to them. He would have to claim to know S-rank worthy intel about a supposedly dangerous terrorist group nobody has ever even heard of. As for how he knew it? They would surely believe him when he told them he had traveled back in time using a long lost technique belonging to the obliterated Uzushio village.

 

No, without any evidence against Akatsuki, verifying his claims wouldn't be a priority. Konoha didn't have the resources to send shinobi out for every rumor. Besides, in his position they would probably examine him for mental problems first and foremost – or lock him up as a not so clever infiltration attempt.

 

It didn't help that he also had the suspicions of his parents – and his teacher – to consider. He sighed, trying to ignore another wave of fatigue. At this rate he would be lucky if he was able to move the next day.

 

What was he supposed to do? It wasn't like he had some kind of fail-safe for this.

 

Stuck in an impossible situation, chakra exhausted and with the suspicion of his parents weighing on him after only a few days back, Shikamaru stared at the ceiling, completely at a loss of what to do.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright. I know, this took a really long time, considering how quickly the other chapters were done. I do feel bad about it, but I'm not gonna apologize. I know I did everything I could, unfortunately I can't offer you anything more than that. I can tell you one thing though: While I can't promise that I'll finish this story, I can tell you that it won't be abandoned unless I tell you as such. I won't just disappear, promise. On that note...
> 
> Special thanks to Igornerd, PyrothTenka, darkerdeepdown (over from ff.net) and lotisflower for their help! I know it took me a long time, but without them it would've been even harder!
> 
> Also, as always, thanks to everyone who left a comment for the last chapter, and I'm sorry I didn't answer many of them... Gonna try to pick that up again, this time :)
> 
> Please leave me a comment and tell me what you think! Till next time! 
> 
> ~Gwen
> 
> PS: You can visit me on tumblr if you like, as 'xxgwenstacyxx'.


	10. Chapter 10

 

He could feel the air around him getting colder as the sun sank below the village skyline, but Gaara couldn't bring himself to move just yet.

 

He was at the top of one of Suna's highest buildings besides the Kazekage's residence. It had become routine to come here after his training sessions: both his own and those with his siblings. Not that he necessarily did anything worth mentioning; no, he was content to let his mind wander while overlooking his home village.

 

Out of sight. Without the risk of someone fearing for their life for no other reason than catching a glimpse of him.

 

It wasn't like he had many alternatives to spend his time on, anyway. These days, his only options that didn't involve causing a mass panic were pretty much limited to staying in his family's residence (if one could even call the dysfunction that was him, the Kazekage and his siblings a family) and his daily training sessions.

 

Between his lessons with Rasa and those with Baki, the latter were without question the more interesting ones. Apart from his intervention during the first lesson, he had kept to simply watching his siblings without contributing any advice of his own. After all, Baki was a great teacher, and Gaara had no issues with letting him take the lead.

 

And while he wouldn't say his siblings had grown comfortable around him just yet, they were at least starting to get used to his presence. Which meant that they no longer gave him wary glances every few minutes and managed to concentrate properly on their training, finally daring to let him out of their sight for a while.

 

The progress was slow, but it was there.

 

Gaara was hopeful; he could say that much. Hopeful about earning his siblings' trust eventually, and hopeful that he could befriend them earlier this time around. But even so, he couldn't quite bring himself to mistake the warm, but oh so tiny feeling in his chest for happiness.

 

The truth was that it was becoming harder and harder for Gaara to ignore the numb sensation of loneliness, a constant companion that seemed to dull his senses like a heavy blanket. He felt a sting in his chest when he thought of his old friends and family, leaving him with a feeling of isolation. He longed for human contact.

 

Funny how something he couldn't have cared less about Before was affecting him now. Even worse, as it turned out, it was easier for Shukaku to influence him when his negative thoughts dominated the positive ones.

 

And who was he kidding? They always did, these days.

 

Perched near the edge of the building, Gaara sighed and let his head drop on his knees. He was tired. So tired.

 

“Gaara-kun? Are you alright?”

 

He didn't flinch, having heard the footsteps coming closer easily. Coming up with an acceptable answer felt like too much of an effort, so he didn't bother. Next to him, Yashamaru came to a halt hesitantly. Apparently he didn't know what to say, either.

 

“I feel like taking a walk through the village. Would you care to join me?”

 

Gaara lifted his head at that, contemplating. He didn't want to spend more time alone, and while he would have preferred his siblings, a walk with Yashamaru sounded nice. Of course, that didn't mean he wanted to scare the villagers as a result.

 

“Can we take the rooftops?” he asked.

 

Gaara still didn't face his uncle, so he couldn't interpret the moment of silence that followed. When Yashamaru spoke, his voice sounded cheerful.

 

“Of course. Shall we?” He didn't fool Gaara for a second.

 

Gaara waited for a moment longer, closing his eyes. Then he rose, easily following his uncle as he leaped over to the next building. When Gaara made no move to speak, Yashamaru picked up the conversation they hadn't started. Completely ignoring his charge's worse than usual lack of participation.

 

“I spoke with Baki-sensei this morning. He said it wouldn't be much longer until you can join your siblings' training routine properly.”

 

They scaled the rounded edge of another building, Yashamaru slowing down as Gaara took a moment to figure out his chakra control. He didn't want to lose his footing on the clay and slip. Choosing a path far from the village center, they moved on.

 

“How do you like his lessons so far?”

 

Again, Gaara had trouble coming up with a response, and the silence was prolonged. Yashamaru waited, giving Gaara the chance to work around his issues. He couldn't even say what was wrong with him, at this point.

 

“They're alright,” he mumbled, his eyes focused somewhere before his feet.

 

The answer was painfully short considering the time it had taken him to come up with it, but Yashamaru accepted it without batting an eyelash. “What about your siblings? Are you three... getting along?”

 

Gaara nearly wanted to laugh. He supposed that was one way to ask whether his siblings could stand his presence without the urge to run for their lives.

 

“We're alright,” he answered, maybe not quite truthfully. Even so, he allowed himself a soft smile at the thought of his siblings. “They're great, Yashamaru. I wish-”

 

They could have met earlier. Wished they could have met under different circumstances. That they could have had a normal childhood, as a normal family.

 

The silence stretched out between them.

 

Gaara paused as Yashamaru let out a sigh and came to a halt only a moment after his uncle did. Great. Now he'd done it.

 

“Gaara-kun, please.” Yashamaru tried to meet his gaze, but Gaara didn't let him, keeping his eyes trained stubbornly on the ground before him. He couldn't bear it, not right now. Gaara didn't need to look at him to pick up on his concern, anyway. And it didn't make him feel any better.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

Well, and wasn't that a good question? There were quite a few things 'wrong' with him, in Gaara's humble opinion, but he didn't feel the need to tell Yashamaru about any of them. He wouldn't be able to help, anyway. Sage, a therapist would be overwhelmed with his issues, even disregarding the time travel bit.

 

“You've been acting differently for some time now. Please,” he repeated. “Is there something I can help you with? Anything at all?”

 

As if he needed any more reminder that he had completely messed up the whole 'not raising any suspicion' goal. Admittedly, he had hoped people wouldn't know him well enough to pick up on any differences. But this was Yashamaru. Of course he wasn't like everyone else.

 

“It's nothing.” Yeah, which was exactly the reason he still wouldn't meet his uncle's eyes. Totally.

 

“Did you change your mind? You can always tell me, you don't have to join your siblings unless you want to-”

 

“No!” Gaara’s eyes widened in shock. “That's not it-”

 

“-or did something happen in the village? Or with your father?”

 

Gaara's hands clenched and relaxed at his sides, another weakness betraying how anxious he was. “Nothing- nothing happened, Yashamaru. I'm fine.”

 

He shifted uncomfortably under his uncle's gaze. Of course Yashamaru wanted to make him better, but how could he tell him he was beyond help? “Just let it go. Please.”

 

Yashamaru hesitated. “I can't do that. I'm sorry, but it's my job to take care of you. And I won't hesitate to involve the Kazekage, if I think your health is at stake.” Gaara bit his lower lip, trying to come up with an excuse. His mind felt sluggish, unable to concentrate on its task and why couldn't he have an off-day sometime else, why now-

 

Even though his uncle knew how he felt about Rasa, he was still loyal to him and wouldn't hesitate to go through with his threat. He had to inform the Kage about serious concerns about his son, and Gaara refusing to talk to him after days, if not weeks of unusual behavior? Yeah, that definitely qualified.

 

If he didn't want Rasa involved, he would have to give his uncle something. Gaara closed his eyes, resigned. He didn't have another choice. Another time, he might have been able to come up with an excuse. Perhaps he would have managed to make his uncle believe nothing was amiss.

 

But not today.

 

“Shukaku is being difficult.” His voice was nothing but a whisper, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if Yashamaru had even heard him.

 

“ _ Shukaku _ ?”

 

Gaara's head snapped up, taking in his uncle's alarmed expression. Damn it.

 

_ Damn it. _

 

He couldn't take it back now.

 

Swallowing didn't do anything to get rid of the sudden dryness in his mouth, so he tried his best not to stumble too much over his words. “Shukaku. It's- it's his name.” He clutched the fabric over his stomach, where the faulted seal ached.

 

Yashamaru tried to stay calm, but Gaara could tell how unsettled he was. “How do you know that?”

 

“He told me.”

 

“It speaks to you?!”

 

Gaara flinched, surprised by his uncle's loss of composure and the spark of emotion from inside his mind. Was that irritation? Rage too, but he was used to that. It was good to know that Shukaku wasn't completely shut off, but this was really. Not. The time.

 

Apparently pulled out of his shock through his ward's defensive reaction, Yashamaru took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Considering what he'd just learned, he did an admirable job.

 

For a moment it seemed like he wanted to reach out to Gaara, but decided against it after all. “Okay. Please, Gaara-kun. You have to talk to me, alright? What do you know about it? What else- did it tell you anything else?”

 

“Not, not much.” Gaara fumbled with the hem of his shirt. He couldn't allow himself to slip up again, had to be careful about what he told his uncle. “I- I mostly get, feelings from him. Or thoughts, sometimes. Only flashes though.”

 

“'Mostly'?” Yashamaru repeated, his voice carefully neutral.

 

He swallowed. “It gets worse when I- when I feel bad.” It was difficult for him to admit, but Gaara didn't think it was a good idea to outright lie about it. Not right now. “I get vulnerable and Shukaku- Shukaku can influence me more.”

 

Yashamaru opened his mouth, but couldn't seem to find the right words. He swallowed. “'Influence'? Influence how?”

 

“I.” Gaara took a shaky breath. He knew he had to keep going – it was too late to turn back – but he didn't want to. Didn't want to risk losing his uncle's affection, didn't want to risk him leaving him.

 

“He influences my mood, sometimes.” He struggled for a moment, trying to express himself properly. “His, his feelings. They bleed through, and I- I feel what he feels.”

 

“Like?”

 

Gaara’s voice was barely audible, at this point. “Anger. Aggression, if it's bad.” For a moment it was silent.

 

“Does your father know?”

 

He didn't answer. It told Yashamaru everything he needed to know.

 

“I have to inform him.”

 

“No!” He straightened up, finally meeting his uncle's eyes. “No, please-”

 

Yashamaru seemed conflicted. “I have to. If it affects you to this extent, he needs to know.” He didn't say anything about the village's safety, but it was implied. This didn't only concern Gaara.

 

Still, Gaara couldn't allow him to tell anyone. Certainly not Rasa. “I couldn't control it, at first. I was- I was dangerous.” He faltered for a moment. “But I learned. I can control him, I can handle it!”

 

He knew he was begging at this point, but Gaara didn't care. Not as long as Rasa would be kept in the dark.

 

“Gaara-kun.” His face was warped in an unhappy frown, his voice hesitant and regretful. “I can't keep something like this from him. He's your father, and the Kazekage. I have an obligation, towards him as well as to you.”

 

“Please, Yashamaru.” When he spoke next, almost none of the desperation in his voice was fake. “If he knows, he- he might not let me see Kankurō and Temari anymore.”

 

Yashamaru paused at that. He could practically see his uncle's inner conflict: He could either decide to not quite betray his Kazekage by keeping valuable information concerning both his son and the village's jinchūriki from him. Or he could ignore Gaara's plea and potentially take away one of the few things that made his ward happy.

 

The decision wasn't easy to make, and Gaara felt bad for putting his uncle in this position. Still, there was nothing he could do about it now. Nothing but await his answer in tense anticipation.

 

Then, finally-

 

“Alright. I will- I will keep silent about it from your father, for now.”

 

Gaara nearly collapsed in relief, the tension leaving his body with a few controlled breaths. It most likely wasn't visible looking at him, but he had been on the verge of a breakdown only seconds ago.

 

“That being said-”

 

He focused his attention back on his uncle, not willing to miss anything he had to say.

 

“I will have to inform Baki. At least of some of it.”

 

That was reasonable. If he was to keep training with his siblings, their teacher would need to know about something significant as this. He could only hope Baki would be as willing to keep quiet about it as Yashamaru was. Even so, he agreed. It would be stupid to let him near his siblings without someone knowing about his little… well. His issue.

 

He nodded, accepting the condition without complaints.

 

“Also, I would like to start coming to your sessions as well. If only to watch.”

 

Another good idea. With his newly gained knowledge, Yashamaru would be able to look out for giveaways in his behavior, would hopefully be able to recognize a bad day without having to rely on Gaara's horrendous communication skills.

 

Hey, at least nobody could accuse Gaara of not being self-aware.

 

“I see how much you enjoy spending time with your siblings.” Gaara felt warmth coursing through his chest at the smile Yashamaru gave him. Even though it seemed a little strained. “I don't want to be the one to take that from you.”

 

His smile froze for only a second, and Gaara was sure he would have missed it, had he not paid closest attention. “But you should be careful.”

 

Gaara hesitated, not sure what to make of that. “Is this about the- about Father?”

He took Yashamaru's silence as confirmation. But he hadn't done anything that could warrant the Kazekage's attention, had he? The only occasions that he and Rasa interacted were during their training sessions, and neither of them were particularly talkative throughout them.

 

Which only left-

 

“Is- is Father not satisfied with my performance?”

 

Yashamaru hesitated. “That's… not it.”

 

Gaara waited, but Yashamaru didn't offer anything else. Chances were he wasn't allowed. He was still loyal to Rasa, despite everything. Deciding he had pushed his uncle's boundaries enough for the day, Gaara didn't push for details.

 

He had already turned around, about to leap onto the next building, when Yashamaru's voice made him stop in his tracks. “Gaara-kun.” He turned, catching a glimpse of worry in his uncle's eyes before he could push it away. “If you ever need help, with- with Shukaku, or with anything else. You can always come to me.”

 

For a moment Gaara didn't move, stunned. Before he could think twice, he had thrown himself at Yashamaru, closing short arms around his lower body. His uncle stiffened in surprise, clearly not expecting the sudden sign of affection.

 

But after a few tense moments he relaxed. He crouched down to his knees, carefully returning the embrace in a gentle hug.

 

Gaara couldn't quite stop himself from trembling, but right now he couldn't care less. After weeks of isolation, he was desperate for human contact, was desperate to feel just a little less lonely in his home village. How had he even survived his childhood the first time around?

 

Well, the few years of insanity sure felt appropriate from this perspective.

 

For just a few moments he allowed himself to forget about his problems, forget about the new wave of concern he probably caused his uncle, and soaked in the safety of his embrace.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Kankurō! It's not a big deal.” Temari furrowed her brows, trying to sound dismissive even as she hurried to match her brother's steps. “What's your problem?!”

 

She shielded her eyes, momentarily blinded by the sun as they stepped out of the shadows of the row of buildings to their left. They had nearly reached the training grounds and yet, Kankurō stubbornly refused to answer her.

 

She scowled, biting her lip and pushing away a flash of guilt. “Well, if you didn't want anything to happen to it, maybe you shouldn't have left it lying around like that. How is that my fault?”

 

Finally, Kankurō paused, glaring at Temari with all the fury a nine-year-old could muster. “You're what happened to it. You broke it!”

 

“So what? It's only a dumb toy.”

 

“It's not! You're just too stupid to see how cool it is!”

 

Temari snorted, smirking at her brother tauntingly. “You mean that piece of junk? Can you even use it?”

 

“I could’ve if you hadn't broken it!”

 

Kankurō's fists were clenched at his sides and Temari furrowed her brows, hesitating. She had teased her brother all the way since leaving the residence, and was slowly having second thoughts.

 

But really, it hadn't been her fault!

 

She'd only been to his workshop to look for him anyway, it wasn't like it was the first time she was inside it on her own. And what if she hadn't paid much attention to where she was going, leaving a half-finished project lying on the ground was just asking for it to break!

 

Then again, it had also been the first puppet Kankurō had made all on his own, it being damaged before he could even try it out during training...

 

Alright, so maybe she did feel kind of guilty.

 

Of course, she would never admit it out loud. Certainly not in front of Kankurō. Admitting her fault meant admitting weakness, and Temari was not weak. So she went on, ignoring the little voice telling her to just apologize and be done with it.

 

“You're just being childish.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Kankurō muttered, glaring straight ahead. She followed his gaze, catching a glimpse of the training grounds. And their teacher.

 

Her smirk faltered. “Yeah. Just let it go. Like I said, it's not a big deal.”

 

Her brother didn't answer.

 

She grabbed his arm, forcing him to a halt and hissed: “You're gonna tell Baki, aren't you?”

 

Kankurō yanked his arm out of her grip and scowled at her. “So what? It's not a big deal, right?” He turned and kept walking.

 

“Kankurō, wait!” Temari tried to sound angry, but wasn't quite sure if she succeeded. “Come on, just- I didn't mean it!” No matter what she'd told Kankurō, she didn't know what Baki would say. And didn't want to find out, if she could help it.

 

“Please don't tell Baki!” Temari refused to think of her request as begging. Temari did not beg. “I'll even let you kick my ass next time we have to spar! Just don't tell him!”

 

Kankurō actually hesitated at that, at the very least pausing to think about his sister's offer, when-

 

“Oops!”

 

Temari startled at the exclamation. She had been too focused on her brother to have noticed the two girls they had nearly run over, and forgot about their argument for a moment.

 

Smiling, she said: “Sorry, Yome. I didn't see you.”

 

Yome and Sen were two civilian children roughly her age, two of the very few she actually interacted with – and played with, from time to time.

 

“Oh. It's you.”

 

Temari blinked, not used to the wary tone of voice she was addressed with. “I- Yeah?”

 

Sen avoided meeting her eyes, badly hiding how uncomfortable she was. “Look, Temari.” She looked at her friend, hesitating.

 

Temari frowned. She wasn't a very patient person, and she certainly didn't like secrets. “What is it?”

 

“...”

 

She was just about to tell them to spit it out when Yome sighed. “We don't want to play with you anymore.”

 

Temari paused, taken aback. “O- Okay?”

 

“When we started, we didn't know you were Kazekage-sama's kid, alright?”

 

“Ah. Yeah.”

 

“It's not about you, really,” Sen added. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here.

 

“Yeah. Sure,” Temari muttered, already turning away. She knew how this conversation would end and stalling wouldn't change anything. She couldn't even say she was surprised. Disappointed, yes. Hurt, not as much as she probably should. But surprised?

 

She had had this conversation much too often for that. It had only been a matter of time.

 

It wasn't about her father, of course. It was about Gaara. (Wasn't everything?)

 

Her brother. (And wasn't that a joke. How could he possibly be the same to her as Kankurō?)

 

“So.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

After another few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Yome and Sen turned away. It didn't take long until Temari and Kankurō were alone again.

 

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

 

Then Temari started to walk, not even waiting to see if Kankurō was following her. It just wasn't fair! It wasn't like she could choose her family. She hadn't chosen to be the Kazekage's daughter, hadn't chosen to have Gaara as sibling.

 

“Temari.” Kankurō walked next to her, struggling to catch up, so she slowed her pace slightly. She didn't want to fight anymore, so she didn't answer.

 

“I'm not mad anymore,” Kankurō mumbled, awkwardly trailing beside her.

 

And that was that.

 

Until they arrived at the training grounds, neither of them mentioned their argument or the two girls, Temari not in the mood to continue and Kankurō just as familiar with the treatment that having both the Kazekage and Gaara as family entitled.

 

Baki, perceptive as ever, could tell something was amiss, Temari was sure of it. He didn't ask, but the slight hesitation before his order to start their warm-up was telling. Not willing to talk about what happened, Temari made an extra effort to complete her tasks satisfactory, to not give her teacher any reason to question her.

 

As long as she performed well during their training, she should be fine.

 

But it was difficult, staying focused. When all she wanted to do was to curl up in her bed and not get up for a few hours. Halfway through their routine, Temari got distracted by voices from the sidelines. She turned, getting a glimpse of Baki, quietly talking to- Yashamaru? When had her uncle gotten here?

 

And why? Well, now that she thought about it...

 

Temari turned her head, letting her eyes wander over the training grounds, until- there! At the very end of the grounds was Gaara, just now coming over towards them from one of the entrances.

 

She hadn't noticed before, but why hadn't he come earlier? Gaara had been joining them for a while now, even participating in some of their exercises. His presence had been difficult, at the beginning. It hadn't been easy to concentrate properly with Gaara being so close, the thought of him, well, going crazy being very distracting indeed.

 

By now, she and Kankurō had mostly gotten used to it. Still, that didn't mean she  _ wanted _ to practice with him – Baki could preach about training to become a real team all he wanted.

 

No, that wasn't what had her hesitating. It was just so unlike Gaara to be late, there had to be a bigger reason behind it. Gaara came to a halt next to Baki and Yashamaru, greeting them quietly. Temari frowned. She couldn’t place it, but something in the way Baki looked at him made her feel like there was something she was missing.

 

She didn't like being left out of things. Especially things that concerned Gaara.

 

“Alright, that should be enough.” Baki's voice made her halt her movement, and she and Kankurō walked over to where their teacher was waiting with Gaara. Yashamaru observed in the background.

 

Again, Temari wondered what he was doing here.

 

“Should we get our weapons?” Kankurō asked eagerly, and Temari couldn't help but feel a spark of disappointment when Baki shook his head.

 

“You won't need them for now. Today I want to do a little chakra exercise.”

 

Kankurō groaned. “Does that mean we'll climb up walls all day again? That's so boring, we can do that by now!” Temari suppressed the urge to tell her brother to shut it, but she had to agree. Wall climbing was boring.

 

“I know. That's why I think you're ready for something more difficult.” Temari blinked. Was that a smirk?

 

She wouldn't have wasted a second thought with any other person, but this was Baki. He was a great teacher and never asked anything of them they couldn't handle, but he was also strict and serious most of the time.

 

His expression right now was deeply unsettling. Temari shared a look with Kankurō. Good to know she wasn't the only one who was getting suspicious.

 

“Gaara, I want you to join in for this.”

 

Gaara nodded hesitantly, while Temari swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that began to form in her throat. Even though it wouldn't be the first time, she couldn't help but feel nervous.

 

“For you, it will be a challenge for your sand manipulation-” Temari didn't hear the rest. Her eyes went wide, her breath coming ever so slightly faster. She felt light-headed, her hands cold and sweaty.

 

Baki was about to make him use his sand?

 

She could deal with their regular training routines. She could deal with chakra exercises, even though they could be extremely boring. She could even deal with Baki observing Gaara's sand powers separately from them, while she and Kankurō were busy with something else.

 

But this?

 

Not only was he about to use his abilities – those that had given him his feared reputation in the first place – he was also going to do so side by side with them. Her anxiety threatened to grow into a full-blown panic attack. She didn't know if she could do this.

 

“-mari. Temari!”

 

She looked up, snapping out of her thoughts with a flinch. Baki's eyes were trained on her in a firm glare that told her it hadn't been the first time he had called her name.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

She straightened up, not willing to show weakness in front of her teacher. “Yeah. Of course.”

 

Baki frowned, hesitating. “We'll be starting then.” He paused, giving her the chance to change her mind. She nodded.

 

He waited for a moment longer. Then: “Alright. Take a step back then, both of you.”

 

Temari blinked, taken aback, but followed her brother as he stepped away from the sandy field that served as their training grounds. She must have missed Baki's instructions, because Gaara didn't need any more prompting to step forward, facing the now empty grounds.

 

For a moment, nothing happened.

 

Temari couldn't see Gaara's face, but she imagined his eyes were closed in concentration. Then he lifted his arms, slowly, and Temari watched in resignation as the sand rose with them.

 

Heaps of sand grew out of the field, some reaching just below Temari's knees, some towering far above Baki and Yashamaru as columns. At the same time hollows formed, shaping the once flat grounds into an uneven, rough parkour.

 

Were her heart not threatening to jump out of her chest, she may even have been impressed.

 

“Very good,” Baki said, inspecting Gaara's work carefully. Then he turned to address Temari and Kankurō. “Now, if you're ready. Your task is simple: Don't fall.”

 

Kankurō frowned, eyeing the parkour skeptically. “How is that even a challenge? We walked up walls much higher than this before.”

 

“Well, yes.”

 

And alright, now Baki was definitely smirking. Or at least doing whatever his equivalent of a smirk was.

 

“Now, those walls didn't move, did they?”

 

Silence.

 

Did he just-?

 

Temari looked at Kankurō. Kankurō stared back.

 

“You mean-?” Kankurō turned, aiming disbelieving eyes at their teacher. “You mean we're supposed to be  _ in there _ while he- when it all moves around?”

 

Temari was sure that no one had missed Kankurō's slip-up, even though neither Baki nor Yashamaru reacted. Gaara on the other hand?

 

“I'll be careful,” he mumbled and looked like he wanted to be there just as little as they did, his eyes trained firmly on the ground.

 

Unsurprisingly, it didn't make Temari feel any better. At all.

 

But she was also the Kazekage's daughter, and both her teacher and her uncle were watching. She wasn't going to show weakness in front of them. She was strong. She was a shinobi.

 

With the feeling that she was walking into her own doom, she took a step towards the transformed training field, doing her best to keep her body from shaking. She wouldn't deny that she was scared, oh no. But she also wasn't going to let that stop her.

 

“Temari,” Kankurō half-whispered, though it sounded more like a whine. Temari shot her brother a look, and, after holding eye contact for a moment, Kankurō reluctantly followed her.

 

The first few steps were excruciating. The sandy ground below her feet was firm, but she couldn't help but feel like it was shifting below her feet. Like it could cave in any second, swallow her into its depths, into darkness and trap her, swallow her up, suffocate her-

 

She had heard the stories, she knew what Gaara was capable of. No one would be able to stop him, not Baki, not Yashamaru. Neither of them would be fast enough. Certainly not Temari. What chance did she have, if Gaara decided she wasn't worth keeping around any longer?

 

Subconsciously she noticed her breath coming shorter. Black spots danced at the edge of her vision. Darkness was creeping in on her, maybe the sand had already enclosed her-

 

No. That wasn't right.

 

She forced herself to take a deep breath, not allowing herself to slow down. She had already reached the first column.

 

She would not be beaten by her fear. Baki had given her a task and she would complete it, no matter what was standing in her way.

 

Even if it was Gaara.

 

Taking another deep breath, she focused her chakra the way Baki had taught them. She concentrated, made it flow into the palms of her hands and into her feet. Not too much, not too little.

 

She didn't allow herself to think as she touched the column, the chakra making her hand stick to its smooth surface. She hoisted herself up and started to climb with an agility she had always been proud of, and nearly succeeded in telling herself she was scaling a regular wall, the way she and Kankurō had learned it from Baki.

 

Then the column started to tremble.

 

Temari froze, barely keeping herself from screaming. And ok, it was sinking, the column was sinking and she would hit the ground if she didn't do anything right now-

 

She jumped.

 

Grabbed onto the nearest pillar.

 

The weight of her body yanked at her as her fall was stopped, the only thing holding her up her chakra infused hands. She took a shaky breath, trying to concentrate.

 

Somewhere from below Baki was shouting at her – criticism? Encouragement? Advice? She didn't know, but right know she couldn't bring herself to care.

 

To her left she could see Kankurō, struggling a bit to keep his feet stuck to the surface of his own pillar, but otherwise just as successful as her in mastering the first obstacle. She closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing calm.

 

Her hands slipped and she let out a yelp as she tried desperately to regain her footing.

 

Alright. More concentrating on her chakra flow, less getting distracted by her brother. She could do this.

 

Temari looked down, and for a second her eyes met Gaara's.

 

Only now did she realize that the pillar had been still the entire time it had taken her to recover from her slip-up.

 

Huh.

 

When the second pillar started to move, she was ready. She took a moment to choose a place for her next landing – a sand pile below her, a bit to her right – then jumped, landing in a crouch and immediately letting chakra flow into her feet.

 

It had been the right decision, because shortly after she landed, the sand pile shot upwards, nearly throwing her off.

 

And on it went. She jumped and leaped and bounced, held onto pillars as they tipped over, waiting for the right time to jump off, stuck her feet to sand piles that moved around until she could find a secure place to leap over to, or others that shot into the air with surprising speed. She used anything she could get her hands on to stay in the air, to not fall.

 

As time went on, her reflexes became faster. She got used to the movements, learned how to choose her next landing spot quicker and quicker.

 

But as she adapted, so did the sand.

 

The breaks in between her jumps got shorter as the sand barely stopped moving at all, and at the same time it got harder to anticipate what it would do next. More than once she was taken aback, having prepared to jump from her current sand pile right when it would start sinking, only for it to sweep to the side instead.

 

But it was fine.

 

Temari was fine.

 

The sudden rush of anxiety whenever the sand took her by surprise never completely ceased, but she also couldn't deny the spark of excitement as she succeeded to dodge again and again, managed to stay in the air no matter what the sand threw in her way.

 

In any other situation she may have even admitted that she was having fun.

 

Then she slipped.

 

She yelped, eyes widening in surprise as her hands missed their mark, barely gliding past the rough sand pillar.

 

No matter how much she learned, Temari also had limits. She had noticed her movement getting slower, her body growing tired because of the highly demanding training exercise. A moment of distraction, a slight miscalculation, that was all it had taken.

 

Leaving her in the air, falling as in slow motion, no sand pillars close enough to hold onto.

 

Luckily the parkour wasn't high enough to be dangerous. She started to tense up, move her body to fall in a way Baki had taught them, to minimize the chance of injury.

 

Before she could finish the movement, sand was closing in on her and Temari froze.

 

No.

 

No, this couldn't be happening

 

Her safe landing was forgotten, the movement abandoned midway.

 

She didn't want it to end like this. She didn't want to be killed by Gaara, didn't want to end up as his next victim.

 

Her body started to tremble uncontrollably. It was dark. Had the sand already surrounded her, or were her eyes closed? Temari didn't know anymore. She couldn't suppress a sob and something was squeezing her, only increasing her panic, something- something soft?

 

Wait.

 

No. Sand wasn't soft. Sand was rough and itchy, burning hot during the day, or ice cold during the night.

 

It wasn't soft, wasn't comforting.

 

But she was surrounded by warmth, pressed against something solid, something with a heartbeat. A rapid, wild heartbeat. She wasn't being crushed. Something – someone? – was hugging her.

 

“Temari? Are you alright?”

 

Temari opened her eyes (and there was sunlight shining in her eyes she wasn't buried was still alive), and the first thing she was aware of was Baki. Baki, who held her securely against his chest, arms holding her in a firm embrace.

 

No. Not an embrace.

 

He was curled around her, shielding her. Protecting her.

 

“Y-Yeah.”

 

But- Baki was only human. He wouldn't have been able to stop the sand, he was vulnerable just like her, and he had. Had been willing to-

 

Temari felt sick.

 

But he was still here. Still breathing. So what-?

 

She turned her head, peeking through Baki's arms, down to the sidelines, where she remembered Yashamaru and Gaara standing.

 

She spotted her uncle first. He had backed off several steps, distancing himself from the sand field and there, cradled firmly in one of his arms, looking disoriented and perplexed, was Kankurō.

 

How had Yashamaru gotten there this fast, after grabbing Kankurō? Her brother had been right next to her! Then she did a double take. Her uncle's face was blank. Completely and utterly blank, the arm that wasn't holding Kankurō raised and pointed at Gaara.

 

For a moment Temari didn't know what she was looking at. Then her eyes widened in shock, as she finally managed to take in the situation.

 

Gaara hadn't moved an inch, arms slack at his sides. Otherwise, the kunai hovering in mid-air around him – the ones controlled by Yashamaru, his caretaker – may have attacked.

 

“B-Baki-sensei,” she whispered, not knowing what she wanted to say.

 

Her teacher hadn't let go of her yet. “It's alright. Everything's fine.”

 

Temari was barely listening. She couldn't take her eyes away from Gaara, away from his expression.

 

Because he looked hurt.

 

That. That didn't fit.

 

Why would he-? He had been the one to attack her, it didn't make-

 

Right next to her, Baki took in a sharp breath, finally loosening his grip. Only seconds later, she heard the clatter of several kunai hitting the ground in a pile.

 

Only now did she take a look around her. Gaara's sand, it wasn't- it didn't look like it should, didn't look like an attack from him was supposed to look like. It didn't look like a coffin in the slightest – and she had heard the stories, all of them were very adamant about that part. It didn't even surround her completely. In fact, the sand didn't seem to reach any higher than the plateau she and Baki were sitting on.

 

I looked more like- like a hand?

 

“Gaara-sama.” Yashamaru's voice sounded hoarse.

 

And now that the kunai were no longer threatening him, the sand sunk lower, setting both of them down gently.

 

Had he-? Had Gaara tried to catch her?

 

With Baki and Temari safely on the ground, and Kankurō and Yashamaru still frozen – in shock? In surprise? – Gaara turned around, leaving the training ground without another glance back.

 

As he walked, his sand figures fell apart behind him.   
  


* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy anniversary! :D Yup, this fic is officially a year old and I'm celebrating with a super long Gaara chapter. Yay! Not that the chapter is in any way kind to him. Eh. ^^' (Ignore the date on the fic. I posted it a few days earlier on ff.net, so that's why.)
> 
> Thanks as always to the wonderful people who take the time to beta for me and/or listen to me whine during writer's block: Igornerd, PyrothTenka, Monster Cat Music Girl, Infamous Storm, To Mockingbird (all of them over from ff.net) and lotisflower!
> 
> Again, it's been a while since the last chapter (which is partly because I waited with this one until the anniversary. I really wanted to have something to post today!), but I hope it'll make up for the wait! Bonding time with Yashamaru and his siblings! ...Although the latter didn't really go well. Eh. Hey, at least we know now that Temari was wrong, and Baki and Yashamaru would be able to protect them in an emergency? ^^'
> 
> Let me know what you think, will you? Thanks as always for reading!
> 
> ~Gwen


	11. Chapter 11

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

 

Shikamaru didn’t look at Chōji when he answered. “I said so, didn’t I?”

 

“Well, you don’t look so good.”

 

Shikamaru sighed, burying his hands deeper in his pockets. “You worry too much. I told you; everything’s fine.” Everything was not fine.

 

For ten minutes now Shikamaru had tried to convince Chōji of his well-being, but the other boy wouldn’t have it. They strolled through the village at a moderate pace, no special destination in mind, and so far Chōji had stubbornly refused to let Shikamaru change the topic. The topic, unsurprisingly, being his break-down the day before.

 

“Shikamaru.” Chōji came to a halt at a street corner, and Shikamaru had no other choice but to follow suit. 

 

“Your arms are shaking. You’re trying to hide it, but I saw it when I picked you up at your place. And,” he said, pausing to look down for a second. “Your legs too.”

 

Well, shoot. 

  
Chōji was right, of course. He’d been able to hide it while they were walking, but now, standing still, the muscle tremors in his limbs weren’t hard to notice – although they weren’t nearly as bad as they’d been in the morning. Shikamaru had barely managed to leave his bed, his limbs feeling like lead and with fire coursing through his muscles.

 

Needless to say, his body hadn’t appreciated his little adventure the night before.

 

“Look, Chōji. I know what you’re thinking, but I swear this doesn’t have anything to do with what happened at the academy.” At least that much was true. “We practiced our clan technique later that day. I just overdid it a bit.” 

 

Chōji just looked at him. “You hate training.”

 

“My father insisted.” Chōji still didn’t look convinced, so he added: “Do you want me to show you?”

 

At once, Chōji’s eyes lightened up. “Yeah, sure!”

 

Shikamaru looked around them, making sure no one was paying them any attention, and formed the needed hand-seal in front of him. His overexerted chakra coils protested, but he ignored them, forcing his shadow to stretch out. It felt like swimming against a river current.

 

“Shadow Imitation Technique. Success.” His shadow connected, and Chōji, mirroring Shikamaru’s movements, grabbed the bag of chips in his pocket and held it out in front of him. 

 

“Hey!” Shikamaru helped himself to the snack as a laughing Chōji broke free and snatched it out of his hands. Shikamaru’s control hadn’t been strong in the first place, and he didn’t fight it.

 

“Alright, that’s pretty cool. I didn’t know you could do advanced techniques like that.”

 

“I’m still practicing.” He started to walk again, and this time, Chōji followed without protest. “Do me a favor and don’t tell anyone, alright? Don’t want my father to get the idea I’m ready for even more training.”

 

They kept following the street, and apart from a few more worried glances, Chōji finally allowed to let the matter rest. It was a lazy morning, the sun shining as people around them went about their daily business.

 

Then they heard the yelling.

 

“-get outta here!" A dull thud followed, something big hitting the ground.

 

Shikamaru winced in discomfort at the noise and shared a look with Chōji. They followed the sound into a street with multiple little shops, the source of the commotion not hard to find. 

 

Shikamaru saw red.

 

In the middle of the street was Naruto, lying on the ground with a civilian – a shopkeeper? – towering over him. Around them stood a small crowd of people, watching. Glaring. 

 

It wasn't the shopkeeper they were looking at.

 

“Hey, what's the big deal?!” Naruto hadn’t seen them yet, staring up at the man with furrowed brows. He didn't seem to be hurt.

 

He better not be.

 

“What are you doing here, you little pest?!”

 

“What am I doing here?” He looked down, slightly pouting and voice growing quieter. “Just looking at that mask...”

 

The people around them were whispering. 

 

The shopkeeper grabbed for a mask, one of the dozens hanging in a row behind him – the replica of an ANBU mask, from the looks of it. “This one, huh?”

 

Shikamaru’s eyes widened, the spark of a memory flaring up. He wasn’t about to-?

 

He leaped forward, catching the mask just before it could strike Naruto in the forehead. It was wood, unlikely to have left a bruise had it hit, but that was hardly the point. Shikamaru’s head jerked around to stare at the shopkeeper, took in his contorted expression, his hand, still raised to throw. “What’s wrong with you?”

 

The man’s eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed back into a scowl. “You got no idea what you’re talking about. Just stay out of it.”

 

“You mean while you keep on bullying a seven-year-old? Not very likely.” He tossed the mask at its owner’s feet. His hands felt icy. “Keep it.”

 

The whispers buzzed like an angry hornet’s nest. 

 

Shikamaru turned, ignoring the bystanders to face Naruto – and his heart jumped when he saw Chōji helping the other boy to his feet. 

 

He tried to ignore Naruto’s wide-eyed stare as he grabbed his wrist to drag him along with him, doing the same with Chōji on his right. His uncharacteristic silence didn’t make him feel better, either.

 

“If you know what’s good for you, stay away from that brat.” Shikamaru didn’t slow down. “Listen to the adult here, kid. Or you’ll come to regret it.” 

 

Shikamaru’s hand tightened around Naruto’s wrist, shaking as he led them past the watching crowd. He let go only after three blocks, making sure to get out of earshot. And to calm the pounding in his ears.

 

It didn’t help that he remembered watching that scene before, remembered standing by, not interfering. Not helping.

 

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Why were adults like this? Naruto had never done anything save harmless pranks. He had been forced into his mischievous behavior by Konoha’s indifference at best, and its blatant rejection towards him at worst. 

 

Shikamaru had been an adult once before, but he simply couldn’t understand them.

 

Although the comparison probably wasn’t fair, with him being close to not one, but two jinchūriki. Knowing Naruto and Gaara for even a short time would be enough to see that they were more than the monsters sealed inside them, and they’d been friends for much longer than that. The villagers? Not so much.

 

Not that it was an acceptable excuse. Nothing was stopping them from getting to know Naruto, nothing but their irrational hatred and fear.

 

He needed to distract himself, or he would lose all faith in his village. So he turned to Naruto. “Are you ok? That was...” He struggled to find the right words.

 

Chōji took the burden from him. “Yeah, that was weird. What was that guy’s problem?” 

 

“Um.” Naruto glanced at his wrist for a moment, frowning, then looked at Shikamaru and Chōji with the same expression. “I dunno?”

 

“He was stupid,” Chōji said with a shrug, thus concluding their conversation about the shopkeeper. He sounded genuinely curious when he went on. “What did you want that mask for, anyway? It looked like an ANBU mask.”

 

“I know, right? They look so cool, don’t they, it would have been the best!” And just like that, his frown melted, giving way to a grin that rivaled the sun with its intensity. 

 

“The best for what?”

  
“For pranking! I’d have scared those bastards so badly, them with their stupid Test of Courage and they’d see that no one beats Uzumaki Naruto at pranking, no one! Serves them right, not letting me come.” Naruto scowled at that, picking at the hem of his shirt. 

 

Shikamaru understood maybe half of what Naruto’d just said, but it was enough to form a painful lump in his throat. He was lucky Chōji had carried the conversation so far, with him trying to ignore the pulsing in his ears with every new bit of information. 

 

“Oh.” Chōji didn’t seem to be bothered by Naruto’s patchy explanation of what had happened and nodded, offering a weak smile. “Yeah, I know that feeling. They don’t let me join their games either, sometimes.”

 

Naruto’s eyes widened. “Really? Why?”

 

“I guess I’m not very good at them.” He shrugged. “They said a team with me always loses, so they don’t want me to play.”

 

“That’s a stupid reason,” Naruto said, crossing his arms.

 

“Yeah,” Shikamaru jumped in. “Which is why we aren’t hanging out with them anymore. Right? We don’t need them.” 

 

“Hey, hey! Does that mean we can play? Let’s play Ninja! If they can do it, we can too!”

 

Chōji hesitated. “I dunno. Can you even play with three people?”

 

“Well I mean, it doesn’t have to be Ninja... We can play other stuff. Uh, let’s go to one of the training grounds, there’s lots of space! Come on, it’s gonna be fun!” Naruto’s voice had grown in volume while he talked, and he was bouncing where he stood, his eyes gleaming.

 

Shikamaru didn’t quite manage to suppress a wince, but he wanted Naruto to always look like this. Excited. Happy.

 

“Sure, why not. Shikamaru?” Chōji looked at him, smiling.

 

Was that even a question? “Yeah, I’m in. Let’s go.”

 

And that was another problem solved. Shikamaru smiled as they headed towards one of Konoha’s many training grounds, Naruto running ahead impatiently, him trailing behind and Chōji somewhere in-between, trying not to lose either of them. 

 

He recalled the events of the original timeline vaguely, but at the time, it simply hadn’t seemed very important. He didn’t remember if Naruto ever got around to pranking the other kids, but he knew that they had tricked Naruto only shortly thereafter, making him enter the forest by promising him to be his friends.

 

“Come on, hurry up!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re here.” Shikamaru sighed, his mouth threatening to break out into a grin. 

 

Naruto, energetic as he was, didn’t waste time and dragged them into a game he only seemed to know half the rules of – if even. It made it all the more fun, even though Shikamaru paid only half attention.

 

The details escaped him, but for some reason, there had been enemy shinobi in the forest who ended up chasing after Naruto. He had been saved – by Iruka? Probably, though he wasn’t sure – but certainly not without injuries.

 

Right now, he was not only preventing Naruto from getting in danger in the first place, he was also able to spare him the other children's cruelty, exploiting his desperate need for friendship. And for what? Nothing but a childish prank.

 

“Hey, wait up! I’m pretty sure that’s not how the game goes!” Chōji yelled as he ran after Naruto, laughing and clearly not serious.

 

And what better way to do it than introducing him to one of the best friends anyone could ever wish for? Shikamaru followed at a slower pace, watching with glee at how well Naruto and Chōji got along.

 

“Shikamaru, come on!”

 

“Coming!” He took another moment and then jogged over to join Chōji and Naruto in their game. 

 

The morning melted away as the three of them spent more and more time on the training grounds, playing what felt like dozens of common outdoor games known in Konoha. Surprisingly it was Naruto who suggested most of them: While he often hadn't been able to join in on the games himself, he had spent a great amount of time watching the others. 

 

His eagerness to try them out himself was both heartwarming and painful to watch.

 

And yet, his favorite game – and Chōji’s, for that matter – was still Ninja, so somehow they kept coming back to it. With only three people and no toys like the cardboard kunai the civilian children used, they had to tweak the rules a bit, but Chōji and Naruto didn't seem to mind.

 

It was still a challenge for Shikamaru to even remotely relax, but eventually he managed to enjoy the day without overthinking everything. 

 

Until Naruto cried out in pain and fell.

“Naruto!” Shikamaru’s blood ran cold as he rushed to his friend’s side, Chōji not far behind.

 

“Are you alright? Did you trip?” Chōji asked.

 

Automatically, Shikamaru scanned their surrounding for danger, sensed for chakra signatures. Coming up with nothing, he dropped down next to Naruto. One of his legs was stretched out in front of him, his clothes dirty from the fall. He seemed fine otherwise.

 

“Yeah, what happened?”

 

Naruto frowned, looking at his leg perplexed. Then he frowned. “I didn’t trip! I mean. I think?”

 

“What do you mean, you think?”

 

“I didn’t! My ankle just started hurting, that made me fall.” Naruto sounded too vocal for him to be seriously hurting, so Shikamaru allowed himself to relax.

 

“Hold still.” He touched Naruto’s ankle carefully, slowly easing his foot out of his sandal. Naruto winced at the contact, grumbling a bit, but didn’t protest. His ankle had already started swelling, dark bruises forming in an ugly halfmoon. He’d seen enough of them to recognize a serious injury, and this wasn’t one.

 

“You’ll be fine. I think it’s just a bit of swelling, you’ll need to rest for a bit and cool it.”

 

Naruto groaned, and to his left, Chōji perked up. “We can help you home, if you want. Do you think you can stand?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Naruto muttered, clearly not happy about their playtime being cut short. He hesitated before accepting Chōji’s help, frowning as he was pulled up. They were halfway to their feet when Naruto hissed and let himself sink back to the ground.

 

“What’s wrong-?” Chōji started, but broke off when his eyes fell on Naruto’s arm – the one not currently slung over Chōji’s shoulder.

 

Shikamaru followed his glance and stared. There, just below his right shoulder, a clean line had sliced through his t-shirt, leaving something dripping down his arm. Something red. 

 

He whirled around, scanning the area around them again and okay, now the metallic stench caught up to him, he was bleeding, Naruto was bleeding how could this happen, were they attacked-?

 

No. They were at the training grounds. There was no one around them. He didn’t sense any danger, they were fine. He could deal with this. It was fine.

 

When he opened his eyes, Chōji was frowning at him and Naruto was talking. Huh.

 

“-serious, are you ok? Is it because you can’t see blood, because there was this boy who fainted after he fell from a tree, but I’m fine, really, it barely even hurts you don’t have to worry-”

 

“Naruto. I’m fine.” He went on when the other boy opened his mouth to protest, cutting him off. “Let me see.”

 

He pulled Naruto’s shirt out of the way – and did a double take. The cut was a few inches long but shallow, just deep enough to draw blood. But it was too narrow. Too clean. There were no bruises around the wound indicating an impact, nor jagged edges.

 

It looked like a kunai cut.

 

But that was impossible, there was no weaponry anywhere near them. And yet, he couldn’t think of anything but a very sharp shinobi weapon that could have resulted in an injury like that. 

 

Shikamaru wasn’t the only one confused. 

 

“How’d you cut open your shoulder like that?” Chōji asked. “That wasn’t there before, was it?”

 

“I don’t know!” Naruto’s voice wavered slightly, his hands twitching. “It’s the same as before, it just appeared.”

Shikamaru’s mouth went dry. No, that wasn't right, it couldn't be. 

 

Could it?

 

“Look, Naruto, it's fine. We’ll patch you up, bring you home. It's not a serious injury, it'll heal quickly.” But it wasn't. Nothing was fine and Shikamaru had to force himself to keep it together, for his friends’ sake. 

 

At any other time it would have been just that: a minor injury no one would think about in a few days’ time. But here? When in another reality, without Shikamaru to jump in, Naruto had been running for his life in the forest at the same time that they were playing? 

 

Shikamaru didn't believe in coincidence.

 

But he could think about that later. Naruto was more important. “Does it hurt?”

 

“A bit,” Naruto mumbled.

 

“Okay, well.” No hospital. He hated it, but Shikamaru couldn’t say for certain that the medics would treat Naruto like a regular patient, and the injury wasn't serious enough to make Naruto deal with that possibility. “We have supplies at home. How about we patch you up there?”

 

Naruto furrowed his brows and shrugged. “I dunno.”

 

Ah. Right. “Or I could grab everything we need real quick and do it at your place.” It was probably a bit early for Naruto to meet his parents.

 

True enough, Naruto immediately relaxed. “Yeah, ok!”

 

They hadn’t gotten far when the sight of Iruka made them halt in their tracks, walking towards them from the edge of the training grounds. He wasn’t alone. “Naruto? What happened, are you alright?” 

 

Shikamaru’s eyes were drawn to his companion, a woman who looked slightly older than Iruka himself. She was not pretty; burn scars covered one side of her face, twisting her mouth into a painful looking frown. One of her sleeves was tied in a knot just below her shoulder.

 

Shikamaru didn't think he’d seen her before. He didn’t like it. Not at all.

 

“Iruka-sensei! Me and Shikamaru and Chōji were playing because that stupid shopkeeper was being mean and Shikamaru glared at him and told him off, it was great!”

 

“That's... nice, Naruto,” Iruka said, blinking a few times as he knelt to be eye to eye with his student. “But I was talking about you leg. And your arm,” he added, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the blood on Naruto's sleeve.

 

“Oh. Yeah, tripped.” 

 

Shikamaru jumped in when Naruto didn’t elaborate. “We were just about to help him home.”

 

“Without letting someone treat his injuries? Really, you three.” Iruka scowled and scooped up Naruto before he had any chance to protest. “We'll go to the academy, it's not far.”

 

Naruto whined but didn't try to struggle. Iruka’s eyes rested on Chōji and Shikamaru for a moment, not long enough for Shikamaru to decipher his expression. Then he turned to the woman. “You don't have to come with us. Anything else can wait until tomorrow, don't you think?”

 

She hesitated, her eyes wandering from Naruto to Shikamaru and Chōji, then nodded. “Tomorrow.” 

 

Shikamaru watched her, trying to take in as much as he could without being caught staring. Her calm posture that just about bordered on rigidness. Her guarded expression common for shinobi. The glance that hung just a second too long on Naruto, typical for any adult in Konoha. 

 

Unfortunately, Naruto’s curiosity was just as strong as Shikamaru’s need to collect intelligence – but with none of his subtlety.

 

“Hey you, who’re you? Why are you with Iruka-sensei and why do you only have one arm?”

 

Shikamaru winced, taken aback by his childish bluntness. At the same time, Chōji’s eyes dropped to the ground, and Iruka snapped: “Naruto!”

 

The woman straightened her shoulders – she looked nearly defensive – and frowned at Naruto. She interrupted Iruka as he started to speak, stopping him in his tracks. “I lost it. On the same mission I got these.” She gestured towards her face. Her voice sounded brusque, her words curt and sharp.

 

“It’s not something you start a conversation with, Naruto. It’s rude.” Iruka sighed, shooting her an apologetic look. To his students he said: “This is Aiko-sensei. Yes,” he added in response to their startled expressions. “ _ Sensei. _ She’s learning to become a teacher at the academy and you will address her as such.”

 

It was moments like these that Shikamaru hated being right. While Chōji and Naruto – the latter stretching to get a better glimpse over Iruka’s shoulder – regarded “Aiko-sensei” with fresh curiosity, his mind was racing. 

 

There had never been a teacher named  _ Aiko _ during his time at the academy, he was sure of it. She shouldn’t be here, she  _ hadn’t  _ been here, so what had changed? 

 

Nothing had. Nothing except him. Every possible change to this timeline was directly related to him – or Gaara, who was hopefully well and about a country away – it had to be, so what did that mean for a shinobi who was conveniently stationed at the academy not long after Shikamaru had started to act suspiciously?

 

“Nice to meet you,” Chōji piped in, smiling politely at Aiko. “Does that mean you’ll teach us sometime?”

 

She took a moment before she answered. “Maybe. After observing Iruka-sensei.” She turned, nodding to Iruka. “Tomorrow.”

 

Shikamaru’s eyes lingered on her retreating figure. 

 

The rest of the trip was a blur. He barely paid attention as Naruto got patched up by Iruka, too busy contemplating what this meant for him, for his plans. Were there any memories he could rely on anymore? Or had he compromised the timeline too much?

 

His mind was buzzing with the implications, shifting through possibilities and scenarios fast enough to make him feel dizzy. 

 

Vaguely he heard Naruto and Chōji talking, chatting as if Naruto’s injuries had never even happened. Meanwhile, he sat unmoving, staring at Naruto’s bandaged shoulder as if it held all the answers.

 

* * *

 

Fire burns in her lungs, her breath coming fast and hot. A branch catches on her sleeve, ripping it. She can’t stop. Faster, still faster. She risks a glimpse behind her, sees a blurred shadow flashing through the trees. She slips. Cursing under her breath, she scurries for halt, keeps running, her teammates not far behind.

 

They’ve been seen.

 

Her body slows down against her will, and Yugito forces it to press on, keeps going, keeps running. They’re still too close, too close to the village and potential backup. 

 

The mission was successful, their target dead, and all that’s left is to shake off their pursuers – or get far enough to force them to stop. It would be suicide to follow them close to Kumo.

 

A shriek to her left makes her freeze, clinging to the rough bark. Kasumi has fallen. Yugito leaps down, crouching next to her.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Kurumi whispers. She gasps for breath, her chest heaving with the effort. Yugito has trouble understanding her. “Leave me. I’m sorry. I can’t-” She takes another shaky breath. “I can’t go on.”

 

Yugito turns to her left. Shozo doesn’t look much better, leaning on a nearby tree for support and panting. She tends to forget her own stamina massively overtops that of most other shinobi.

 

“Alright then,” she murmurs, mostly to herself. She turns, facing back towards their pursuers. They’ll be here any second.

 

In fact- 

  
Yugito frowns. They should be here already. They were right behind them; what’s keeping them?

 

It’s then that one of them falls out of a tree.

 

Yugito blinks and shares a look with Shozo. In front of them, the enemy shinobi lies in the dirt, face-down and with three senbon lodged in his neck.

 

“Yugito Nii.” 

 

Her eyes snap upwards, a sunbeam blinding her as it gleams through a patch in the tree canopy.

“Jinchūriki of the Two-Tails.”

 

“Who are you? What do you want?” She frowns, tensing and building up chakra. Whoever it is, somehow she doubts they are connected to their mission. 

 

“You aren’t easy to find outside your village, you know?”

 

Her eyes narrow. She steps back, closer to her teammates.

 

Above them, the stranger jumps.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Guys, I'm not gonna lie. I've been feeling stuck on this for a while now - in some ways I have from the beginning - and I could really use some inspiration. Your thoughts would help a lot - where you think this might be going, what you like and don't like about it, anything, really - and nothing is more motivating than comments! :)
> 
> In other news, I'm actually posting this from an entirely different continent. Guess who's going to spend a year in Australia! :D It’s super busy and super fun so far, Perth is amazing!
> 
> The bit about the Test of Courage and Naruto being chased by enemy shinobi was from the anime. He was indeed saved by Iruka, but what Shikamaru doesn't know is that he, in turn, had to be saved by Kakashi. :P It's a filler, so you can guess about the quality, but if anyone wants to check it out anyway: It's episode 177, 'Iruka's Ordeal' and episode 178, 'Iruka's Decision'.
> 
> Big thanks to my wonderful beta readers: Igornerd, To Mockingbird, Monster Cat Music Girl, and PyrothTenka. Basically they're awesome and you should check them out. Right now! If you haven't already! :D
> 
> Anyone want to make guesses about Aiko? Or the stranger who confronted Yugito? Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!
> 
> ~Gwen


	12. Chapter 12

 

Shikamaru and Chōji didn’t leave.

 

It had been nearly a week since their adventure at the training grounds – by now the pain in Naruto’s ankle had dampened into a dull throb – and even longer since Shikamaru had offered to be friends with him. And yes, he’d accepted, so technically they  _ were  _ friends. Friends who greeted each other at the academy every morning, and who sat together in class. Friends who played Ninja with each other in the afternoons, ate ramen with him, who laughed together and had fun.

 

It was everything it was supposed to be, everything Naruto had imagined for a friendship and more.

 

He just hadn’t expected it to last. 

 

“Naruto? You there?” 

 

It couldn’t possibly be this easy. After it had taken him years to win Iruka-sensei’s affection, after finally having a person who genuinely cared about him without it being their job – a  _ single  _ person – how could it be easy now? 

 

“Yeah! Coming!”

 

But in the end, did it matter? He’d just enjoy it while it lasted.

 

Naruto swept one last glance through his apartment, then opened his door to join Shikamaru and Chōji. He tried to squeeze through, leaving the door gap as narrow as possible: He hadn’t forgotten the other boys’ glances the first time around, and wanted to spare himself the embarrassment a second time. 

 

He couldn’t even say for sure what made his home different from theirs’ – and therefore  _ wrong  _ – and somehow that made it even worse.

 

“Ready! Come on, let’s go!” 

 

“Don’t act like you were the one waiting.” Shikamaru’s sigh was one of those that sounded annoyed but weren’t, so Naruto wasn’t worried. 

 

As usual, it didn’t take long for Naruto to take the lead, and he chose the slightly longer route to the academy that avoided the marketplace. For some reason Shikamaru always seemed tense around other people. It had to be because of his crazy good hearing – Naruto already tried not to talk as loudly as usual around him, but it was so hard to remember! 

 

It was Aiko-sensei who let them into class, and Naruto took a seat with Shikamaru and Chōji. As always, it made warmth bloom in his chest and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

 

Aiko-sensei settled down in the front corner like she always did, not saying a single word. He got that she learned to be a teacher herself, but why was she always so serious? With her face all warped from those scars, her stare just felt creepy.

 

Not to mention her arm. It had taken all of one day for rumors to sprout among the students, each of them more outrageous as the week went on.

 

“Her ship sank on a mission to Nagi Island and a shark bit it off! I’ve heard her tell Iruka-sensei, that's why she got stationed so far from the coast.”

 

“She sacrificed it to save someone she loved. Don't you see? It's so romantic!”

 

“Kumo planned an invasion and she lost it in a duel with the Raikage himself! They’re keeping it quiet so no one panics, you see...”

 

He’d been close to joining in – Aiko-sensei had mentioned the failed mission herself, after all, and there’d be no easier way to get the others to listen to him! – but Shikamaru and Chōji had disagreed. Naruto had to admit: they tended to know better about this kind of stuff.

 

The students’ interest had declined after a while, growing bored of the gossip and with Aiko-sensei not doing anything they deemed worth talking about.

 

Not until the end of the week. 

 

It was a bright, sunny day and it didn’t take long until Iruka-sensei took them outside and announced another practical lesson. It was about time, too! They hadn’t had any since their sparring had been cut short the last time.

 

“We’ll split into two groups this time. I’ll take one half, and Aiko-sensei the rest.” Excited chatter broke out, and Iruka-sensei proceeded to steer around his students into two groups. Naruto was just about to turn to his friends, when Iruka-sensei added, “Oh, and Shikamaru. You’re joining us, too.”

 

“But, Iruka-sensei-!” 

 

“Yes?” Iruka-sensei looked at Shikamaru expectantly, daring him to protest. Naruto was intimately familiar with this particular tone of voice.

 

For one moment, he actually expected Shikamaru to argue, his eyes glistening defiantly. The moment passed, and Shikamaru looked away. “Nothing, Sensei.”

 

Naruto could only watch in bewilderment. Having friends was confusing! Sometimes he didn’t get Shikamaru at all. Was that normal? Was he supposed to understand why Shikamaru acted the way he did?

 

Maybe the answer was no: He shared a look with Chōji, who shrugged, a frown on his face. 

 

With Shikamaru slowly following Iruka-sensei, Naruto and Chōji were left in Aiko-sensei’s care. Maybe that meant they’d finally get to see their new teacher in action! 

 

Aiko-sensei let her gaze wander over her students, not speaking. When she finally raised her voice, they quietened down almost immediately. “Iruka-sensei and his students will practice laying traps and basic techniques for covert operations. We’ll be doing target practice. Tomorrow we swap.” 

 

Naruto shared an excited look with Chōji, and together they followed their group to the target range. He could count on one hand the times they’d done target practice in class, and he couldn’t wait to learn! 

 

A few boxes of kunai and shuriken had already been placed a distance away from the targets, and Naruto nearly jumped in excitement, impatient to finally start. To Chōji, he said, “I'll hit the bullseye before the lesson’s over, just watch!”

 

“Yeah, right.” 

 

Naruto whirled around to the brown-haired boy behind him. “So what? You’ll see, I’ll be the best in no time!"

 

“Sure.” The boy smirked, his eyes glimmering in a way that made Naruto’s blood boil. Then he started to whisper. “And will that be before or after Aiko-sensei chews you out for disrupting class?”

 

Naruto frowned, the beginning of a question forming in his mouth, when the boy kicked one of the boxes, causing the weapons to spill out with loud clatter. His eyes widened as the boy let himself fall down beside it and cried out in faux pain. “He pushed me!”

 

“No I didn’t!” This was just perfect. Only a week had gone by, and already he’d be on Aiko-sensei’s bad side. It just wasn’t fair! 

 

It wouldn’t change anything. She’d be just like all the other teachers – she wouldn’t care what he had to say. No one ever cared. So when Aiko-sensei turned to the commotion, her frown making the lines on her face stand out even worse, he let out a growl. “Whatever. I’ll pick them up.” 

 

If possible, Aiko-sensei’s scowl turned deeper, but she didn’t comment as Naruto crouched down to pick up the douche’s mess. Hands reached down to help him, and Naruto flashed Chōji a quick smile, feeling the addicting rush of warmth tingling through his chest. How about that – he was starting to get used to it.

 

Chōji was biting his lip, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell Aiko-sensei what happened?”

 

Naruto looked away. “It’s not like it would make a difference.”

 

“But-”

 

“It wouldn’t, okay? Adults don’t care what I’ve got to say.” Naruto frowned. That wasn’t right. “Except Iruka-sensei, cause he’s awesome.”

 

“I could have told her.”

 

That threw Naruto for a loop. “Thanks, Chōji.”

 

Chōji smiled and, tossing the last of the kunai in the box, stood.

 

“Everyone.” That was Aiko-sensei. Naruto straightened up to listen. “Form lines in front of the targets. Take five kunai each, throw and retrieve them, then get back into line. Don’t get in the way of other targets, and don’t throw if someone is near yours. Go.”

 

It was quiet, the students not used to receiving such blunt orders. There was a hustle as everyone hurried to obey their teacher’s instructions, and Naruto dodged an elbow aimed for his ribs. He bounced on his feet as he waited in line, his hands twitching in eagerness to get his turn.

 

“Woah!” He watched as one of the boys threw his kunai all at once, and hit bullseye with all five of them! What was his name? Sosuke? Sasuke? The other boy was on top of their class often, he knew that much. 

 

Finally! It was his turn!

 

He grabbed for the kunai – dropping one of them in the process – and paused. How had that guy done it again? The kunai felt clumsy and heavy in his hand, but it had worked for the other boy! Why shouldn’t it for him? He raised the kunai, hurling them with as much power as he could – and his face fell. They missed the target in all directions, burying themselves in the ground and the tree behind it. 

 

Laughter echoed over the academy grounds, and Naruto felt heat rising up in his face.

 

“Nice one, moron!”

 

Naruto spun around, a remark ready on his tongue, but a hand on his shoulder made him freeze. “Just ignore them… Come on, Aiko-sensei is looking.”

 

Chōji was right: Their teacher hadn’t moved, watching them with narrowed brows. Naruto couldn’t place her expression, and she didn’t say anything.

 

“Were you trying to do what Sasuke did?”   
  
“Well, yeah.” Naruto frowned. “It looked so easy for him!”

 

“I wouldn’t try again, if I were you. I’m pretty sure he trains a lot at home, too. That’s why he’s so good.”

 

“I can do that! I’ll train so much they won’t even know what hit them, that thing with the kunai will look like nothing!”

 

He half expected Chōji to laugh, purely out of habit, but of course the other boy didn’t. He was far too nice for that. In fact, Naruto couldn’t imagine him being mean to anyone on purpose. 

 

By now all of the students had had their turn at least once. As Naruto watched, a pretty blonde girl (“That’s Ino,” Chōji whispered. “We hang out sometimes because our fathers are friends.”) reached for the weapons, aimed, and threw one of them. It hit bullseye and Ino smirked, reaching for the next. The second kunai hit as well, but before she could grab the next, Aiko-sensei stood next to her.

 

Naruto blinked while the girl – Ino – yelped in surprise. He’d barely seen their teacher move.

 

“S-Sensei-”

 

“Don’t move your wrist so much. Keep it lined up and straight.” 

 

Ino blinked. Aiko-sensei waited. 

 

“U-Um. Could you repeat that?”

 

Aiko-sensei pursed her lips, but complied. “Your wrist. Keep it straight throughout the motion.”

 

Ino moved her arm experimentally, her brows furrowed in concentration. Or maybe confusion. It was probably confusion. Naruto didn’t envy her, feeling just as lost as her, and wasn’t surprised when she gave up, her arms going slack.

 

“Could you. Maybe, um. Could you demonstrate?”

 

They wouldn’t have needed to ask Iruka-sensei. 

 

When Aiko-sensei gave in, and – begrudgingly? Annoyed? He just couldn’t tell – demonstrated the correct movement slowly, it looked different, somehow. “Look at the arm movement, not the posture.” She didn’t elaborate.

 

Naruto shot Chōji a look, and his friend answered the unspoken question. “She probably has to compensate for, you know.” He looked away, awkwardly. “Her balance must be off.”

 

Naruto accepted the explanation, feeling bewildered. Why did people keep acting this way? Growing quiet, trailing off. Being uncomfortable. Aiko-sensei lost an arm, so what? He just didn’t get why they couldn’t talk about it.

 

When Ino repeated the motion on her next try, Naruto couldn’t see much of a difference.

 

“How was that better? She threw perfectly the first time, too!”

 

Chōji opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted. “Aiko-sensei watched her movement, not the target. She obviously wants to teach us the right technique, or we’ll keep practicing it wrong.”

 

“I-I knew that!” Naruto stared at the girl. He’d noticed her before in class – no one else had bright pink hair like hers – but they’d never talked. Her eyes had widened and she seemed just as surprised to be talking to him as Naruto was.

 

Chōji didn’t know her either, apparently. “Um. Hello! My name's Chōji. You’re Ino’s friend, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m Naruto!”

 

The girl chewed on her lower lip, hesitating. “Yeah. I know.” Her eyes twitched over to Ino, who had just thrown the last of her kunai. “I'm Sakura.”

 

In the front Aiko-sensei moved on to a different girl, and what followed was a repeat of Ino's turn: The girl threw a few kunai in short succession – not aiming as carefully as she probably should – before Aiko-sensei intervened.

 

"You're too stiff. Relax your body, tense muscles throw off your aim."

 

Naruto kept watching, forcing himself to pay attention as Aiko-sensei observed and corrected, fixed movement here and adjusted posture elsewhere, and tried to remember as much of his teacher’s advice as he could.

 

Even though the tasks were the same, with Aiko-sensei the lesson was new, different. And not all of his classmates took the change in a good way.

 

"It's like looking at a statue. Did I do okay? Does she want me to try harder? Maybe she hates my guts, what do I know."

 

"I don't think teachers are allowed to hate their students."

 

“Yeah, but does she know that?!”

 

"I swear, the way she looked at me when that kunai hit the ground..."

 

"Maybe try aiming further than her feet next time?"

 

“What a hoax. Her advice is useless half of the time, why do we even bother? And how’s she gonna teach us real ninja stuff, it’s not like she can do any cool techniques like this.”

 

“If they believe that, they’re stupid.” That was Sakura. “Do they really think they’d have given her a position at the academy if she wasn’t able to teach us properly?”

 

“I guess.” Chōji didn’t sound convinced. “They have a point though. I mean, she won’t be able to show us anything but taijutsu, right? It might be more difficult to learn, this way.”

 

Naruto hadn’t even thought of that. “Oh, right! How does that work, a shinobi without hand signs? She must be weaker than everyone else.”

 

Sakura looked like she wanted to protest, but Chōji was quicker. “Naruto, it’s your turn.”

 

This time, Naruto decided to listen to Chōji, and took his kunai one at a time. Stiff wrist, relaxed body… Did he have to hold his breath while throwing? And which foot had to be in the front again? Damn it!

 

Naruto grit his teeth. Whatever. He didn’t need any of that stuff anyway, so he put as much power as he could into the throw, and… the kunai sailed several inches past the target. He could hear a muffled snicker from somewhere behind him, and prepared to spin around, he’d show that bastard not to laugh at him-

 

“Your motion is wrong. It’s not all about force.”

 

-and froze, the other boy all but forgotten. Was she-? Had Aiko-sensei just-?

 

Naruto stared at his teacher. She’d just corrected him. That had been  _ advice _ . 

 

He hadn’t even realized it, but he hadn’t expected her to comment on his turn at all, save maybe to tell him how awful he was. After all, she wasn’t Iruka-sensei. But to actually make an effort to help him out?

 

And alright, now Aiko-sensei was scowling at him, so he did the only thing that made sense: He picked up his next kunai. 

 

After a few more turns he still didn’t feel like he made much progress – certainly not as much as he would have liked – but for once he felt like a teacher other than Iruka-sensei was genuinely happy with the effort he put into his performance. 

 

That was, of course, assuming she was capable of feeling something remotely close to ‘happy’.

 

“Last round.”

 

Naruto perked up at that. Already? They couldn’t have been practicing for that long, he hadn’t managed to hit the center even once! Next to him, Sakura seemed disappointed as well. “Aw, I nearly had it!”

 

Huh. Maybe… “Hey! Hey! Sakura!” 

 

She looked at him that way again. Like she wasn’t sure whether to answer him or just walk away. “What?”

 

“We could train together after the academy! Not today. I mean, it doesn’t  _ have  _ to be today. Just whenever, we could practice sparring or with kunai or traps...” He trailed off, noting Sakura’s less than thrilled expression. “I bet Chōji would be there too, and Shikamaru! Right?” 

 

“Huh? Oh,” Chōji said, taken aback at being dragged into the conversation. “Yeah, sure. I mean, we might have to convince Shikamaru, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

 

“See! So, so? What do you say?”

 

“Um. I don’t know,” Sakura said. She looked nervous, glancing around until her eyes stuck to the girl from before, Ino. She was about to walk away to join her, but paused. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.” 

 

“We’re gonna be at training ground 4!” 

 

But Sakura had already left.

 

Well. That could have gone... worse? Probably?

 

Naruto knew he should start focusing on his last throw –  it was his turn again – but instead he found himself wondering about Sakura: Was she actually considering to join them? She hadn’t sounded eager at all. But maybe that was simply because she’d been surprised – maybe she just needed time to think about it.

 

“ _ Wait. _ ”

 

Naruto froze, hand halfway to picking up his last batch of kunai. A chill ran down his spine and he wasn’t able to suppress a flinch, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Aiko-sensei’s eyes were glistening, and the angry markings on her face matched the fury in her voice. 

 

“What did you do.” What did he-?

 

“N-Nothing.” 

 

This couldn’t be happening. He hadn’t done anything, why was she targeting him? Naruto couldn’t stop shaking – and he didn’t even know why! He’d been in trouble with Iruka-sensei plenty of times, he knew teachers couldn’t genuinely harm him.

 

His hands were sticky with cold sweat.

 

“Not you.” 

 

Not… huh? His eyes snapped up, and sure enough, Aiko-sensei wasn’t looking at him. Her stare was fixed on another boy – the bastard who had pushed him at the beginning of the lesson. The boy had noticed too, and Naruto got to watch his reaction after experiencing for himself what kind of effect Aiko-sensei could have: The boy’s eyes went wide and he started to tremble.

 

“M-Me?”

 

Instead of answering, Aiko-sensei used her hip to pull the sleeve of her uniform over her hand – it took a bit of fumbling – and picked up the kunai Naruto had been about to choose. She held it up without comment, and the boy paled.

 

“I-It’s-! I didn’t-! It was just a joke, I swear!”

 

Aiko-sensei didn’t answer.

 

The jerk couldn’t stand the silence for long. “It’s- it’s just itching powder. I-It’s not a big deal, r-right? A prank, th-that’s all.”

 

Nothing.

 

He clenched his fists, his voice growing louder. “S-So what, punish me then! W-What is it?!”

 

“I’m thinking.” Naruto had to strain his ears to understand Aiko-sensei, her answer laughably quiet next to the jerk’s yelling. 

 

“About what?”

 

“Punishment.”

 

“I-It was just a prank! It would have messed up his throw, that’s all! It wasn’t anything bad, serious!”

 

Aiko-sensei frowned at that, making the jerk flinch. Naruto kind of felt bad for him. Her anger wasn’t even directed at him, and it still made him shiver. 

 

She gestured with her hand, still holding the kunai. “You sabotaged equipment – sharp weaponry.” A pause, then: “You put another student in danger.”

 

Aiko-sensei didn’t speak again, and no one else dared to break the suffocatingly tense silence. Naruto saw her clenching the kunai in her fist – still protected by the fabric of her uniform – her grip tightening and loosening sporadically. Her face betrayed nothing.

 

Finally, Aiko-sensei’s hand relaxed. “Iruka-sensei will decide.”

 

While she didn’t look happy about her decision, the jerk visibly deflated with relief.

 

Having taken care of the jerk (sort of), she turned her attention back to Naruto, and he tensed in anticipation – but all she did was nudge one of the other boxes towards him with her foot. He didn’t have to be told to understand her order, and hurried to finally finish his turn. 

 

After that it didn’t take long until the rest of the students finished, and they looked at Aiko-sensei expectantly, their teacher still holding the kunai she had used for demonstration. Naruto was starting to expect the moment of silence before Aiko-sensei spoke. 

 

“Tomorrow.” With that Aiko-sensei turned, and walked towards the academy.

 

No one moved. Then, recognizing the dismissal for what it was, muffled chatter broke out, and all around him his classmates started to leave the academy grounds – hesitantly, still perplexed by the suddenness of it.

 

“Let’s see if Shikamaru is done, okay?” Chōji suggested. 

 

“Sure.” Naruto felt distracted. He was trying to make sense of what happened, trying to figure out how he felt about... well, about everything.

 

When he looked back, Aiko-sensei had paused and looked down, eyeing the kunai in her hand as if in deep thought. Absentmindedly Naruto rubbed a bruise on his arm he didn’t remember getting, and kept walking.

 

* * *

 

 

The breeze was cool that afternoon as Gaara stood on his claimed rooftop, high and with view of most of the village, as he liked it. He was trying not to dwell on the utter disaster that had been his most recent training session, but it wasn't working. 

 

The image of Temari’s shaking form was burned into his mind, her fearful eyes peeking out from Baki’s protective embrace, close to tears. He could still feel his uncle’s kunai around him, the sickening urge to react, to strike back, the struggle to keep his sand restrained.

 

The sensation crawled under his skin like ants, making him shudder.   
  
He sensed another's presence behind him, interrupting his thoughts, and Gaara tensed before realizing it was just his sister. Not that he didn’t look forward to seeing her, but what was she doing here?

 

A shower of sand cascaded down and pooled onto the stone roof around him. He blinked, brushing grains of sand out of his hair. Had he been manipulating the sand subconsciously?

 

A bright sound made him focus back on his sister. Her hands were pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide open. Had she just…? That had been a  _ giggle _ .

 

They stared at each other, neither of them sure what to say.

 

“So, um." Temari chewed on her lip, shifting her feet and glancing back to where she’d come from. It looked like she was fighting with herself. Finally, she sat down – leaving a clear distance between them – and crossed her arms firmly as if to prove to both of them that she had come to stay. “Your sand. How does it work, exactly?” 

 

The random topic caught Gaara off guard, and he didn't answer immediately. Temari still avoided looking at him, and she couldn't seem to stop fidgeting. But she had come. Slowly, he settled down in front of her. 

 

“What do you mean?” he asked in the end, hoping for clarification. 

 

His sister took a steadying breath. “You don't ever use hand seals.”

 

“I don't need them.” Gaara hesitated, then raised one hand, summoning enough sand to form a little ball. 

 

Temari’s voice faltered when she opened her mouth, and she swallowed, leaning back slightly. Gaara’s heart sank, but his sister pressed on. She was stubborn like that. “I-Is it like a Bloodline Limit?”

 

Gaara paused. “Something like that.” He scanned the roof behind Temari and let his eyes linger at the edges, hoping to see a hesitant Kankurō following their sister’s example. He was met with empty air, and something in his chest tightened. “Where’s Kankurō?”

 

Temari’s gaze dropped to the ground. “He’s, um. He’s in his workshop. Busy with one of his projects.”

 

Her hesitation was all the proof he needed. 

 

Still, his sister was here, so his reaction the other day, breaking her fall, couldn’t have been misunderstood completely. Right? Temari had decided to offer him a chance, despite her fear, despite his reputation!

 

He probably shouldn’t be surprised. Temari had always been the bravest of them. And the most reckless.

 

“Show me!” 

 

Gaara stared at his sister. A flash of disbelieving horror flickered through her eyes, but was gone again just as quickly. Instead, she had her jaw set, her muscles tense and a determined frown on her face. Whatever he did, she wouldn’t back out now.

 

So he obeyed. 

 

He took his time, moving his sand slow and steady. He let it flow above their heads in golden streams, drew shapes in thin air and all the while never took his eyes away from Temari. She looked fearful at first, then curious, and slowly but surely her eyes gleamed with a cautious excitement that for once made her look like the ten-year-old she was.

 

“U-Um. Hey, can you do people?”

 

A second Temari formed between them, seemingly frozen mid training with her iron fan raised, and Gaara was rewarded with surprised laughter, his sister regarding her sand clone with wide eyes. 

 

Her awed silence didn’t hold long. “Do Kankurō next! And Yashamaru!”

 

Their brother appeared at sand-Temari’s side, with a puppet attached to shimmering strings. Yashamaru followed, watching both of them with a fond smile. Gaara hesitated, then created a Rasa-clone to join the others: He smiled when Temari started to giggle at her father’s moody scowl.

 

He decided to take a risk. “There’s something else I’ve been working on.”

 

This time, the sand didn't arrange itself in a detailed sculpture. Instead it hovered over the ground in front of him, a cloud shimmering golden in the sunlight. 

 

Temari’s brows were furrowed, staring at it doubtfully, and he was about to explain when movement drew his eyes to the lower buildings at his side. Three shinobi were leaping over the rooftops, rushing towards the village center like Shukaku himself was chasing them.

 

“Something must have happened.” Temari frowned.

 

“Do you want to take a look?”

 

Temari looked just as surprised as Gaara felt. Surely he was being too rash, pushing her to her limits before she had the chance to adapt. But when Gaara hopped onto his cloud and offered a hand, Temari didn’t hesitate long before accepting – and yelped in alarm when the cloud took off, carrying both of them at a breathtaking speed.

 

Gaara would have prefered to take it slow, but he also didn’t want to lose the shinobi. As much as he’d isolated himself from most of his home village, he still wanted to know if something serious – potentially dangerous – was happening.

 

“Are you ok?” he asked, turning to his sister.

 

Temari, wide-eyed and clinging to him so hard it was nearly painful, swallowed before daring to open her mouth. “Y-Yeah.”

 

He was already regretting his decision when he heard her laugh: shaky, still in a slight daze, but genuinely laughing. “This is amazing!”

 

She was right. It had been a while since Gaara had used his powers just for the sake of it, but as they were soaring over Suna’s landscape with the wind tearing at their clothes and Temari’s breathless laughter next to him, he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do.

 

He was almost disappointed when they caught up with one of the shinobi, but adjusted his speed to float beside him.

 

The shinobi nearly fell off the roof, skidding to a halt when Gaara started to speak. “What happened?”

 

“G-Gaara-sama!”

 

“Tell me,” Gaara said, and hated that the shinobi started to tremble. 

 

“T-There’s a spy. W-We don’t know, I mean. There a-aren’t many details yet. They were still being chased when the request for backup came in.”

 

“Where?”

 

“C-close to the market, last I heard.” His posture was stiff as he talked, not meeting Gaara’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know more than that, I swear-”

 

“Thank you.” Gaara cut him off, speeding towards the marketplace. 

 

The conversation, as short as it had been, clawed its way into his chest like a parasite, leaving him open and exposed. He hated it, he hated feeling this way. 

 

Beside him Temari was quiet, but reached for something attached to the sash around her waist. He hadn’t noticed it before, but soon she was holding one of her fans – one of her old, small ones – probably in preparation. 

 

She shrugged when she noticed his questioning look. “Baki-sensei said they’re still good for chakra practice. And they’re easier to carry around than the new one.” 

 

Gaara didn’t point out that she hadn’t managed a half-decent attack with her old fans. If she felt more confident with some kind of weapon at hand, he wasn’t about to stop her. 

 

Besides, it wasn’t like anything was going to happen to her. Not as long as he was nearby.

 

The commotion wasn’t hard to find once they reached the market, and Gaara was just about to land at the scene when he changed his mind. Instead, he let his sand carry them into a nearby ally, to walk the rest themselves. 

 

Half a dozen shinobi were already there, and one glance was enough for him to recognize why none of them had acted yet: The enemy kunoichi had a hostage.

 

“Please! Please let him go, I’m begging you!” Heat flushed through Gaara’s body as he saw a man – the hostage’s father, maybe? – being detained by one of his shinobi to stop him from rushing into danger himself. He could feel sand grains dancing around his clenched fists.

 

“Stay back!” The kunoichi looked nearly feral, her gaze jumping from one spot to the other, shaking and eyes impossibly wide. The hand holding a kunai to her hostage’s throat was just as restless, and it looked like she might slit his throat by accident if nothing was done. “Even you people must care about something. Don’t do anything stupid!”

 

Gaara stepped out, ignoring the hiss of “ _ Gaara! _ ” from his sister, as well as the sharp intake of breath from around him. 

 

“H-Hey brat! Stay right there!”

 

Gaara obeyed and took a moment to look at the hostage. The boy was calm. His eyes wide – afraid, obviously – but lucid. That was good: he would most likely respond to commands, and wouldn’t panic and give the spy a reason to hurt him. Gaara could work with this.

 

“What do you want?” he asked next.

 

“What, are you sending children to do your job for you now?” She spat out the insult while eying Gaara with crazed eyes. She clearly had no high opinion of Suna. Then she tightened her grip around her hostage. “Let me out of the village unharmed. Don’t send anyone after me.”

 

It wasn’t an option. She had to know that, she’d spied for another village – possibly one of the big five – and wouldn’t be freed as easily as that. But as long as it meant saving the boy he could-

 

“No! NO!”

 

Gaara winced at the volume, and couldn’t help but turn his head – only to freeze. 

 

It was the boy’s father – and he wasn’t looking at the spy. He was looking at Gaara with eyes half-mad, overflowing with panic and distress. “Don’t, you can’t! I’m begging you!” His gaze flickered around him, to the spy, to the shinobi holding him in place. To anyone who would listen.

 

“Make someone else talk to her! Don’t you know who he is?! You can’t, he doesn’t- Why would he care about my son, don’t let him decide!” His eyes went back to Gaara and he struggled against his captor with new determination. “He’s a demon! He doesn’t care about anyone, I won’t let him!”

 

Gaara’s mind was blank. A distant growl drifted through his ears as his chest tightened.

 

“H-He’s-? That’s-?” The spy took a step back, dragging the hostage with her. “N-No, you’re not-! You’re not supposed to be-!”

 

The boy whimpered when she pressed the kunai closer to his throat, and alright, she was panicking, the situation was escalating and there was no time to talk, Gaara had to act  _ now- _

 

He rushed forward, throwing sand into the spy’s face while he sent a tendril towards her hand. The sand wrapped around the kunai and held it in place while she screamed in surprise and reeled back, blinded. 

 

“Come on.” He beckoned the hostage over and the boy ducked under the spy’s arm, taking a step forward. He froze when his eyes met Gaara’s. 

 

Plan B then. He reached out with a new wave of sand, rushing at the hostage to drag him away from danger – only for a bunch of kunai to cut off its path. And no, this wasn’t part of the plan. The sand rushed back without his permission, abandoning its task to shield him from the shinobi’s attacks – his own shinobi’s attacks – and the kunoichi was about to regain her bearings, this was wrong, so wrong-

 

A thud next to him and Temari took off, running towards enemy and hostage. Gaara was half-tempted to try again – Temari was in danger,  _ his sister was in danger  _ – but kunai were still flying and she had already reached the hostage.

 

“Come on, move!” Temari half guided, half dragged the boy away from danger.

 

Gaara didn’t hesitate. As soon as both of them were safe, sand charged at the kunoichi from all directions. Her terrified screech was muffled when she was surrounded, trapping her in a cocoon of sand.

 

Only with the spy immobilized and the boy running towards his father did Gaara allow himself to relax, taking a deep breath. He let the tension bleed out of him, and with it the growling in his ears fell silent.

 

The shinobi were staring at him. As was the boy’s father, clutching his son to his chest. It didn’t look like anyone else was going to speak first.

 

“What are you going to do to her?”

 

The kunoichi he’d asked flinched but didn’t answer, and barely managed to tear her eyes away from his sand dome. No one said it out loud, but Gaara knew what everyone was thinking. All of them wondered why the spy was still alive. Why  _ they _ were still alive, having just attacked Suna’s murderous demon container, as it turned out without adequate reason.

 

Gaara should probably feel worried about his lack of reaction. He should feel angry. Isolated. Maybe even depressed. He picked up Temari’s fan from where she had dropped it next to him and felt nothing.

 

“F-Father!” 

 

Temari’s startled voice dragged him back into reality, and he whirled around, following her line of sight.

 

“Gaara.”

 

He couldn’t help but to tense at the harsh voice. Rasa stood before him, the attire of the Kazekage making him stand out from his people. His stare made Gaara uncomfortable.

 

Someone must have fetched him right out of a meeting.

 

Rasa stood like a statue, just watching. Assessing. When he finally started to speak, he sounded only mildly interested. “Your performance today has reinforced me on a matter Baki and I’ve been discussing.”

 

His eyes flickered towards the sand dome that still imprisoned the spy. Gaara’s heart was pounding madly, and his eyes were frozen on Rasa. 

 

Rasa waited another beat. Then his expression softened, and Gaara was tempted to rub his eyes in disbelief. “From now on you will accompany me on missions. You’ve proved yourself more than ready.”

 

Temari’s fan slipped from his limp hand, falling to the ground with a dull thud. In his head, Shukaku howled.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This might change things.
> 
> Aiko’s not gonna become a main character or anything, if some of you wondered. There simply wasn’t a canon character who could have taken her role, so an OC was the only solution.
> 
> Tell me what you think? About both, the scene with Aiko and Gaara?
> 
> As always, my awesome betas are Igornerd, PyrothTenka, To Mockingbird and Monster Cat Music Girl, so giant thanks to them!
> 
> Comments motivate me to write faster~
> 
> ~Gwen
> 
> PS: Visit me on tumblr! xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com


	13. Chapter 13

Where was the line between paranoia and reasonable caution?

Over the course of the last week, the line between the two had begun shifting, blurring to the point where it was unrecognizable. Of course, paranoia suggested delusion and unwarranted concern – and surely none of Shikamaru's current worries were unwarranted.

Right? The signs were all  _there_ ; there was nothing unnatural about his constantly flaring alarm bells. (But what if? What if he blew it all out of proportion, what if he was seeing shadows…)

Because now that he had noticed it once, he couldn't seem to unsee it.

Tiny cuts and bruises that he didn't remember getting.

The feeling of running into something that wasn't there.

Once he watched his mother cut herself while cooking, her knife lying on the table behind her.

Little, tiny things that everyone else frowned about and then forgot, dismissing them as nothing. But Shikamaru? He didn't have the luxury to do the same.

Somehow, in an unthinkable, impossible way, the old timeline was influencing them. Events that had happened Before but not  _now_  were clawing their consequences into what was supposed to be a fresh start, what was supposed to be  _better._

Like ripples in a pond.

It sounded insane, Shikamaru knew it did. But he didn't have a better explanation.

The implications of it made him sick with worry.

It didn't help that the academy served as a reminder every single day. Aiko wasn't supposed to be there: She simply felt  _wrong_ , and Shikamaru couldn't stop feeling on edge around her.

He had been beyond frustrated when Iruka had insisted on keeping him close during class. Not that he didn't understand it, but no matter how uncomfortable he was being around Aiko, it was nothing compared to leaving her out of his sight when his friends were with her.

Then again, at least something good had sprung out of that particular lesson.

"You want to do what, exactly?"

Naruto's expression was lit with a bright grin. "Train and get to the top of the class!"

"What for?"

"To become great and powerful ninja, duh!" Naruto looked at him as if that was the most obvious answer. "You should've seen what that guy Sasuke did with his kunai! He threw four of them  _at once_ and hit all of the bullseyes!"

That stole a grin out of him. "Sasuke, huh?"

"Yeah! Just wait, I can do even better than that, I've just gotta train even more than him!"

Shikamaru had to suppress a snort. Some things never changed. "And Sakura's coming too?"

"Weeell," Naruto said, sounding sheepish. "I invited her. And she said she'd think about it."

"Ahh." Shikamaru suppressed a wince. With her civilian parents, it was very likely for Sakura to have picked up on Naruto's bad reputation, more so than it had been for Chōji. And since Shikamaru wasn't friends with her at this point, it was also more difficult to sway her opinion.

All things considered, Shikamaru didn't think it likely for Sakura to actually show up.

Even so, he just couldn't say no to Naruto when he was already this excited.

"Fine, whatever." Shikamaru yawned pointedly. He had a reputation to keep up, after all. "Don't expect me to make much of an effort though. I don't care about doing well in class."

Naruto had already stopped listening.

"Whoo! It's gonna be  _awesome!_  We're gonna be the best shinobi ever, you'll see!"

And that was how Shikamaru found himself at training ground 4 with Chōji and Naruto, practicing with kunai Naruto had "borrowed" from the academy. ("They want us to become great and powerful shinobi, right? So there's nothing they can say about us trying to become stronger.")

Shikamaru was less than thrilled about the possibility of training becoming their new freetime activity – everything in him fought against the idea of his friends turning into child soldiers even sooner.

That being said, he and Gaara were only two shinobi. There was no guarantee that they would succeed in eliminating all threats toward the shinobi world by the time they became adults.

In fact, with both of them stuck in their respective villages, suspicious eyes around them everywhere (or maybe Gaara had been more successful in avoiding attention?), it was proving to be very unlikely.

It was becoming more and more probable that he would need his friends' strength. There were many shinobi – enemies and allies alike – that he couldn't compete with in raw power, so it could prove fatal to not have the powerhouse that was Naruto by his side.

Of course, the problem would never have come up had the old Naruto come with them in the first place-

No. Don't think about it.

His heart stung as he forced himself to pay attention to his different younger  _false_  friends.

"Try again, that last one was close!" Naruto said.

He didn't want to think about when and how they would need to use the techniques he showed them. About how they wouldn't be having fun  _then,_ wouldn't be cheering about a kunai well aimed, a new technique just waiting for them to try out.

"Awesome! You nearly got it, Chōji!"

They made it look like so much fun.

It wasn't; not knowing what would come after, knowing what exactly it was the academy was preparing – or supposed to be preparing – them for.

"My turn!"

It made him feel sick.

By the time noon came around, Shikamaru welcomed any kind of distraction; and it came in the form of Sakura and Ino.

"Sakura! You came!"

Sakura didn't seem to share Naruto's enthusiasm. She fell a step behind to hide behind Ino, gripping her friend's arm tightly.

A smile tugged at the corner of Shikamaru's lips. Seeing Sakura like this, shy and timidly hiding behind Ino, when he knew how confident and powerful she would grow up to be – it was adorable.

In any case, enthusiasm or not, she had decided to come after all.

Ino on the other hand looked less than thrilled to be there. "Shikamaru. Chōji." Her greeting was lackluster at best, and Shikamaru didn't miss that she hadn't acknowledged Naruto, only shooting him a wary glance.

Chōji waved cheerfully, unfazed by her attitude. "Hey, Ino!"

A quick mental throwback to his childhood and Shikamaru settled on 'annoying cousins whose parents kept making them hang out every other week' as their current friendship dynamic, and had to suppress a snort.

They didn't get time to say anything else, because Ino stepped forward with her arms crossed, demanding all their attention. "I wouldn't be here at all if Sakura wasn't so keen on training with you guys–"

"Am not!"

"–but if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right." She looked around with her chin raised, daring someone to object to her taking charge.

Shikamaru felt uncomfortably reminded of their early days as Team 10 and barely managed to bite back his typical "troublesome", knowing it would only attract her wrath. He'd learned early on not to fight Ino on her authoritative nature. He'd simply thought he'd left those times behind him.

Naruto, not having hung out with Ino before, didn't know that the easiest way to deal with her was to simply give in and go with the flow. "What do you mean? We're already training, see, we even got the real kunai from the academy!"

"You  _stole_  them?" Sakura frowned, torn between disapproval and anxiety.

"Borrowed! And it's only to become stronger, it's not like we're doing anything bad with them."

"What I mean," Ino said, raising her voice over Sakura and Naruto's squabble, "is that there's far more to being a powerful shinobi than just kunai throwing. And since we're doing that at the academy anyway, we could use our time much more productively."

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. He wasn't thrilled about where this was going, but Ino was right. However, she had never expressed this kind of sentiment the first time around, not that he knew of. "Why is this so important to you now?"

Ino shrugged. "It isn't. I don't really care about this stuff. I'm already good with kunai, and my dad teaches me clan techniques from time to time." She paused, her cheeks coloring slightly. "B-But if Sakura wants to become stronger, I'm gonna make sure she trains properly."

Shikamaru had to smile at that. Ino was aware of the disadvantage Sakura faced, simply by having civilian parents. As the children of career shinobi – clan heads, even – the three of them were bound to pick up certain things from their parents, while Sakura (and Naruto) had no access to additional training or education.

Not on their own, that was.

"Fine then." Shikamaru sighed. "What do you suggest?"

"Well," Ino said. "There are two things that are most important for a shinobi. The first is chakra control."

"Charka? What's charka?"

"Are you serious?" Sakura stared at Naruto. "That's one of the most basic-"

"Hey." Shikamaru send her a warning look. Not that he didn't understand her exasperation, but unlike her, he knew that Naruto wasn't completely to blame.

"U-Um." Sakura squirmed under his gaze, shifting her weight uncomfortably. When she addressed Naruto again, it was with a considerably more patient tone. "Chakra is basically the energy that every shinobi has. You need it for even basic techniques, and you have to train your control over it in order to use them effectively."

"Oh! So if we learn chakra we can use cool ninja techniques?"

Sakura winced at his wording but didn't comment. "In theory, yes…"

"Awesome! What are we waiting for?"

"Ino," Shikamaru said. "Have you ever used chakra before?"

Ino pressed her lips together. "No, but-"

"Let's not do that then. Sounds like too much of a drag."

There was no way he was going to supervise four seven-year-old children – one of them being  _Naruto_ – during their first attempts at chakra control. Later, when they were a bit older and he had at least slightly improved mental stability – maybe. But now? Nope. No way.

"Aww…" Naruto pouted, flinching when Chōji put a consoling hand on his shoulder.

Sakura looked disappointed as well. "What's the second one? You said there were two things."

Naruto perked up at that. "Right! Say, say, what's the second?"

"Stamina," Chōji answered in Ino's stead. "Right? Chakra control doesn't bring you far if you can't keep up physically."

"Oh." Naruto deflated, having expected something more exciting.

Shikamaru on the other hand saw a way to keep his friends entertained with minimal chance of injury and/or mutilation, and jumped at the opportunity. "Sounds good!"

Chōji blinked. "It does?"

"Yeah! Sure, let's…" Shikamaru trailed of, trying to think of a harmless exercise that wouldn't bore his friends. "Let's play Ninja."

Ino stared at him. "Seriously? You want us to play a game?"

"Yeah, I thought we were here for training!", Naruto chimed in. "Besides, we already played that before."

"Well, yeah." Shikamaru smirked, lowering his voice so his friends had to come closer in anticipation. "But we're going to play the extreme version."

Predictably, Naruto's eyes widened. "The extreme version?"

"Yeah!", Shikamaru said, thinking up rules on the fly. "The most important change is that when you're hiding, you can't stay in one place for too long. You have to keep moving, so you're forced to think quickly. Also, whenever the seeker yells 'Lava Release' everyone else has three seconds to get off the floor to avoid getting burned, or they're out."

"It still sounds like a game to me," Ino said.

"So? Who said training can't be any fun?"

"I suppose it would be good exercise, if you have to be moving constantly," Sakura allowed.

Naruto, unsurprisingly, had no qualms showing his excitement. "And it sounds like fun! Let's do it, let's play!"

"Sounds good to me," Chōji said.

Ino admitted defeat with a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Whatever, if you insist."

Shikamaru let out a discreet breath of relief. He felt like he'd dodged a Fire Release on this one.

Shikamaru volunteered to seek first, and he had to smile to himself at the sight of his seven-year-old friends pretending to be stealthy – more often than not he could see them peek out of the corners of their hiding places.

Soon Naruto took his place, having been too enthusiastic about the game to actually try and stay hidden, and Ino after him, not fast enough to escape Naruto's immediate yell of "Lava Release!" upon becoming seeker.

By the time it was afternoon, every concern about them wasting time playing games had vanished, evident in the constant laughter – or muffled curses – ringing across the training grounds. Even Ino looked like she was having fun.

Eventually Shikamaru found himself perched on a tree, sharing a grin with Sakura – who sat on the one opposite of his – when a gleeful "Found you!" announced Naruto. He still hadn't grasped the stealth part of the game.

Seeing Sakura leap over to another tree, he chose the other direction, and jumped off his own branch, onto the river below him.

Shikamaru realized then, in the 0.2 seconds after landing on the surface, that standing on water was not, in fact, something his seven-year-old self was able to do. Another fraction of a second to sigh internally later and he interrupted the chakra flow to his feet, letting himself plunge into the river.

He took a moment submerged under water to question how this had become his life.

Swimming the short distance to hoist himself ashore, Shikamaru could see Chōji jogging towards him, eyebrow raised as a question. He sighed, unwilling to get up from where he was sitting on the river bank. "I'm good. Slipped from my branch, no big deal."

Chōji stopped trying to suppress a snort. "You look ridiculous."

He was in the middle of wringing out his ponytail when Naruto ran over to meet them.

"That was  _awesome_!"

What.

"How did you do that?!"

Oh no.

Shikamaru stared at him, for once at a complete loss.

"Do what? He just fell into the river."

"Yeah, but he landed on top of the water, first! Come on, say! How did you do it?"

 _Damn._ He'd been so quick. How could Naruto have seen? He must have been paying closer attention than he thought. Shikamaru swallowed, getting rid of the dryness in his throat. He could salvage this. He would–

"Impressive."

Shikamaru's blood froze.

"Hello, Aiko-sensei," Chōji said, polite as always and completely unaware of the state of panic Shikamaru found himself in. This could not be happening.

"Guys, what's going–" Sakura stopped halfway through her sentences, running towards them with Ino not far behind. "S-Sensei? What are you doing here?"

Aiko didn't take her eyes off Shikamaru. "...I came for the kunai. Ino?"

"W-What? Oh!" Ino all but sprinted to fetch the box of weaponry, recognizing Aiko's hand gesture for what it was.

"R-Right! Hehe, about that," Naruto started, rubbing his neck with a sheepish grin. "S-See, we didn't  _steal_ them or anything, I swear, we just thought we'd get a bit extra practice, y'know, for class?"

Nothing but a curt nod. Why wouldn't she look away? Shikamaru could feel sweat like icy needles on his skin.

Ino came with the kunai, holding the box out for Aiko to take under her arm.

What happened next set off every warning bell in Shikamaru's head, woke every instinct in his battle-sharpened mind. Everything screamed at him to do something, to act – and yet he could do nothing but stand there, frozen, watching as every paranoid thought of the past week was confirmed.

Aiko smiled.

None of his friends shared his distress, although most of them seemed tense – waiting for a scolding at the very least.

Little did they know that Shikamaru had single-handedly saved them from any punishment, having given Aiko something far more important to think about.

"I will see you." She walked off, taking the box of kunai with her.

As one, his friends breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was so sure she'd punish us for this," Sakura said.

Chōji nodded solemnly. "That was scary."

"Well, it would have been your fault!" Ino scowled, glaring at the boys. "How could you think stealing them was a great idea?!"

"But hey, hey!" Naruto bounced where he stood, unable to contain his excitement. "She saw! Aiko-sensei saw!"

She did. But in stark contrast to Naruto, that thought filled Shikamaru with nothing but dread. Even if he had any doubts about her motivation before, those had vanished with the look she'd given him.

Gleeful, nearly.  _Knowing_.

"Saw what?" Sakura asked.

Shikamaru could have probably stopped Naruto from answering. But what was the point? By now it was only a matter of time, it was too late. He had failed. He had no choice but to roll with it.

"Shikamaru fell off a tree and stood on the water before he fell in! You still didn't say how you did it."

All eyes turned towards him, and Shikamaru shrugged. "It was a second at most, not a big deal. Honestly, I don't even know how I did it. Instinct, I guess?"

"Ah!" Sakura yelled, her eyes gleaming with the same excitement as Naruto. "But that means you used chakra!"

"I guess."

Chōji didn't say anything. It worried Shikamaru somewhat.

"Uh, uh! Maybe Aiko-sensei will teach you cool techniques, now that she knows you can!"

"I don't think she can teach a single student separately like that, Naruto," Sakura said, sounding not even half as patronizing as she had earlier that day.

"Look, I'm gonna go home," Shikamaru said, a pointed look on his dripping clothes. "It's getting late anyway."

"Aww." Naruto deflated, shoulders drooping and a pout on his face. "But we're gonna do this again, right? You gotta teach us the chakra thing!"

"There's nothing to teach. I don't know what happened, Naruto."

This day just kept getting worse. Shikamaru said goodbye to the others, fully aware that they would probably start talking about him as soon as he had left. He didn't miss that Chōji still hadn't said anything to him. He'd have to worry about it later.

For now, he'd have to brace himself for the consequences that were surely to follow. The question was: who beside Aiko would he have to deal with? He could make a few guesses: none of the options were pleasant.

It seemed like the ripples weren't his only worry.

He had nearly arrived home when something bumped into him from behind. Some _one._

Shikamaru tensed, whipping around but forcing himself not to act rashly.

It was a woman. Young, dark-brown hair worn in a long braid, the symbol of the Uchiha proudly displayed on her shirt. And she didn't look too well: She was pale, having stumbled back a few steps after running into Shikamaru. Her eyes whisked around as if looking for something.

Maybe she was agitated from a mission turned-south? She was wearing civilian clothes, but even outside of missions most shinobi carried around too many issues for them to handle. They simply tended to be superb actors, as well.

"Are you okay?"

"F-Fine."

And just like that, without sparing him another glance, she hurried off.

Shikamaru was left standing in the street, with damp clothes, a knot of worry in his stomach and too many questions he couldn't begin to answer.

* * *

Uchiha Fugaku was enjoying a rare moment of peace. 'Rare', in this case, meant anything between 'most unusual' and 'he could swear Itachi had still visited the academy the last time he'd had a day off', so no one could really blame the clan head for taking just a little too long during his mandatory inspection.

That was the reason he found himself stood behind the handrails of the spectators' platform, peering into the training area and watching his shinobi as they went through the drills of their sparring session. The new batch of recruits for the police force was promising, and something about observing their training had always had a calming effect on Fugaku.

Especially during these times, with his responsibilities piling up to record heights.

The moment was broken by a shinobi materializing at his side, and Fugaku closed his eyes, unsurprised about his break being interrupted. Duty called.

"Uchiha-taichou." He hesitated, and Fugaku could feel a headache building up. It was one of those _._  "I've come to report–"

"Another incident?"

"I... Yes."

The lines around Fugaku's mouth hardened. "Who."

"Uchiha Totsu, sir. A chunin."

"Physical harm, or…?"

The shinobi looked like he was desperately trying not to fidget. "The other one."

Were he any less of a shinobi, Fugaku would have sighed in resignation. "Bring her in."

With his peaceful moment over, the tension that his position as leader entailed returned tenfold. He shot one last glance down into the training area, then turned to address the most recent cause of his stress.

On their own, the handful of incidents were no cause for greater concern, but their number was rising. They'd been lucky in one regard: so far all of them had occured within the village, as opposed to on missions, where the consequences could be more severe.

A moment of weakness, of distraction in the best case. Lethal in the worst.

And they still had no explanation. Fugaku hated wandering around in the dark, especially with their position in the village steadily deteriorating.

The kunoichi saluted before him. "Uchiha-taichou."

"What happened?"

She chewed on her lip, not quite meeting Fugaku's eyes. Her lack of composure proved her low rank. "The same as the rumors."

Fugaku scowled. Would he have to drag the details out of her? "You were within village borders?"

"Yes, sir."

"No mission scheduled for today?"

"No, sir. I've been on leave for a week, recovering from a leg injury."

It sounded similar to the others. Fugaku narrowed his eyes, determined to get to the bottom of it before their luck ran out.

"Tell me everything."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Shikamaru, desperately trying to distract his toddler friends from potentially dangerous ninja stuff: hAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF EXTREME HIDE AND SEEK
> 
> My wonderful betas are: Igornerd, To Mockingbird, PyrothTenka and darkerdeepdown!
> 
> Welp, looks like the plot is picking up on both ends. Let me know what you think! Please don't forget to review!
> 
> ~Gwen
> 
> My tumblr is xxgwenstacyxx.


	14. Chapter 14

The noise was becoming unbearable. It rang in Gaara’s ears, filled his head, invaded his thoughts and raged, raged,  _ raged _ . He couldn’t get away from it. Couldn’t get even a moment of peace. Shukaku roared, and there was nothing Gaara could do to stop him.

 

He could feel the brunette’s eyes on him again. He didn’t know his name – didn’t know anything about him, except that he was one of the unfortunate souls chosen to accompany them on their mission (funny, how serving as the Kazekage’s bodyguard would have been considered an honor only weeks prior) – and he didn’t try to ask. His gaze, too wide and too frantic to be merely suspicious told him it wouldn’t be taken well.

 

Besides, he had more important things to worry about. He could feel Rasa getting closer (the meeting must have ended), Shukaku growing louder. After all, the demon could feel what he felt, and thrived on his negative emotions, leeched off on his agitation and exhaustion like the parasite it was.

  
No. No, that wasn’t right.

 

Gaara closed his eyes, willing his headache to fade. Positive thoughts, positive thoughts. Temari and Kankurō. Yashamaru. Shikamaru and Naruto.

 

Naruto. Naruto would know better than this. He had made friends with his bijū, and Gaara had to remind himself that it was possible, had to remind himself that Shukaku wasn’t lost yet. Gaara could help him,  _ would _ help him. Somehow. 

 

There was noise in his ears, and eyes on his back. He touched the package bound to his side, just to remind himself it was there. 

 

A door opened. “Gaara.” 

 

He refused to flinch, meeting Rasa’s gaze steadily. His stoic mask was familiar, mixed with only the barest hint of contemplation. 

 

A second nameless sand shinobi followed behind him, a good head taller than Rasa and most of her face covered by fabric. She had yet to acknowledge Gaara’s presence, opting to ignore him entirely.

 

“We’re done here. Let’s go.”

 

Gaara obeyed, hoisting his sand gourd on his back and taking his place at the Kazekage’s right. He found small comfort in the familiar weight – at least something good had come out of joining Rasa’s missions.

 

Beside the tall one on Rasa’s other side and the nervous wreck of a shinobi at the rear (Gaara tried not to think badly of him, he really did. His constant shifting and the weight of his eyes made it near impossible.), the only other person with them was Yashamaru – and try as he might, his presence did little to comfort Gaara. 

 

Something between them had, if not broken, then cracked. Gaara kept telling himself that his uncle’s doubt was reasonable, that he had only been rational in believing Gaara capable of hurting his siblings. But it hurt. From Yashamaru more than from anyone.

 

As a result, their journey remained void of conversation beyond the absolute minimum. The tension around them was thick enough for their companions to pick up on it even without context, Gaara was sure of it.

 

The silence between Rasa and Yashamaru in particular seemed uncharacteristically strained, and if Gaara were any less of a person he would find a certain amount of glee in the way Yashamaru directed subtle but unquestionable frosty glances towards his Kazekage.

 

But even ignoring the atmosphere, even if they’d all get along like family should (the thought alone was ridiculous), it wouldn’t change the fact that Gaara didn’t want to be there. 

 

That was an understatement: Gaara could think of few things he’d like to do less than spend time with Rasa, not to mention doing so outside of the village, on a series of dull, diplomatic missions that he wasn’t even allowed to participate in, being instructed to “stand guard” – a fancy way of ordering him to wait outside the door – instead. 

 

Gaara frowned at that thought. It felt weird, not being included in matters that concerned the village. He’d been his village’s kage for such a long time that it was difficult to watch from the sidelines now – especially since he couldn’t suppress the thought that he had made a better leader than Rasa had.

 

Instead of wasting time here, he could be spending time with his siblings. He could be there to protect his village. Instead, he was hiking through the desert doing a job that a regular sand jounin could do – it wasn’t like Rasa couldn’t defend himself, anyway – and, worst of all, he came so close to the Fire Country that it physically hurt him to not set off towards Shikamaru and Naruto. 

 

“Wait.”

 

Gaara froze, reaching for his chakra in anticipation. Yashamaru’s voice was tense, his head tilted and eyes closed in concentration. Gaara didn’t sense anything himself, but he trusted his uncle. Besides, Shukaku was extremely successful in distracting him, making it near impossible to concentrate himself.

 

Yashamaru’s head snapped to the right. “That way!”

 

Kunai went flying, hitting Gaara’s sand as it formed as a shield in front of their group. Dust rose around them in veils – an earth technique? It wasn’t Gaara’s doing – clouding them in sand and hindering their sight.

 

Next to him, Yashamaru and the kunoichi took fighting stances as the brunette did the same at the back, covering their kage in all directions. 

 

Rasa himself didn’t move, watching the events with what looked close to disinterest.

 

As if he couldn’t take care of the enemy by himself, if he bothered.

 

“The rumors are true then.” 

 

The voice rang towards them, bright and clear as a bell. Even so, Gaara had to strain to listen over the ruckus Shukaku was making. 

 

“They say the Kazekage is travelling across half the desert with only three other shinobi and a kid. Far, far away from his village.”

 

It was impossible to determine where the speaker was standing – her voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, losing itself in the wide, flat terrain. 

 

“Say, are you  _ trying _ to get yourself killed?”

 

And that was enough of that. Gaara didn’t want to give them the time to surround them – if they hadn’t already, depending on how many there were. 

 

Besides, he wanted to avoid an Evil Monologue, if at all possible.

 

“Get ready.” Yashamaru and the kunoichi tensed, and he could only hope the brunette was doing the same. 

 

Any of them could have taken charge by now, but since they didn’t, Gaara suspected that Rasa had instructed them to let him make the first move if it came to it.

 

Would he ever stop having to prove himself?

 

He made the dust around them settle with a quick thrust of his hands. Enemies jumped them as soon as the sight was cleared.

 

Three kunai flew at him. He caught them with his sand, throwing them back at his opponents. One of them tried to use the non-existent moment of distraction and Gaara wiped him off his feet, not moving an inch from his position.

 

His job was to protect the Kazekage, and as much as he resented the mere idea, he would complete his mission. He wasn’t quite at the point where he wanted Rasa to die.

 

Somewhere ahead, the kunoichi with the melodic voice – she seemed like the group’s leader – was still talking. “You’re gonna regret coming here. Your arrogance is incredible, thinking they are enough to protect you.”

 

Gaara knocked out one of the enemies, wishing she would shut up. Why did so many shinobi love to hear themselves talk like this? It was annoying. And distracting.

 

He blocked a bunch of kunai flying towards the brunette.

 

He wasn’t in the mood for this.

 

An earth technique shook the ground below him; he blocked it, jumping while his sand shattered the spikes before they could reach him.

 

He wanted to go home.

 

“Bringing a kid was your biggest mistake!”

 

Finally, the leader was coming forward.

 

He barely managed to take in her appearance – red hair, scrape through her hitai-ate, bare shoulder proudly displaying a scrawl of scars – and she plunged at him, wielding a heavy-looking chain sickle.

 

He dodged the first blow, blocked another and jumped to the side as she swung the weighted chain above her head – he had to avoid the other sand shinobi getting in the way of her weapon.

 

The chain soared towards him, stopped by his sand before it could hit. 

 

Their eyes met, and the kunoichi grinned. “Not bad, kid.” 

 

Gaara ignored her, pressing down the sand below her feet as quicksand. She leaped over it, bending in mid-air to avoid his kunai and sending some back with a flick of her wrist.

 

She formed hand-seals while falling, and Gaara braced himself, preparing for her attack.

 

He didn’t expect a water technique. Those were rare in the desert – impractical, as all water had to be created out of chakra alone. 

 

Sand swept in front of him as a shield and Gaara could feel the water seeping in, weighing it down as mud – annoying, but not enough to do more than slow him down.

 

Until his sand started to dissolve.

 

Gaara stared as it disappeared in front of his eyes, leaving only clear water – and him without protection.

 

But that was impossible, that wasn’t how sand  _ worked _ ; his head throbbed as Shukaku growled in displeasure and he couldn’t think, his mind was blank-

 

A whirring sound made him look to the side, and he could only watch in frozen shock as the chain sickle flew towards him in an arc, aimed at his head-

 

Yashamaru appeared out of thin air, shielding Gaara and yanking the sickle out of its path. The genjutsu shattered as the kunoichi died – struck down by her own weapon so fast, Gaara wasn’t able to follow the blow.

 

An illusion. Of course.

 

His uncle stole a glance at him as Gaara stepped out from his protection, wearing an expression grimmer than Gaara had ever seen on him. 

 

He picked up the battle wordlessly, and Gaara had never seen him fight quite this fiercely and ruthlessly.

 

There was a grunt from behind, and he turned, using his sand to protect his back.

 

His blood froze as he spotted the brunette. The shinobi was bleeding heavily from his shoulder, his arm hanging uselessly at his side and struggling to fend off multiple attackers. 

 

A blow was aimed at his chest. 

 

Another attacked from his right. 

 

He wouldn’t make it in time.

 

Gaara flung his sand, tensing as it slowly, too slowly streamed towards the brunette, a dagger nearing his unprotected side, and… and…

 

The dagger buried itself in his sand, getting stuck and ripped out of its wielder’s grasp with a flick of Gaara’s wrist. His sand swarmed the enemy shinobi, forcing them apart – and away from the brunette, breaking their formation and taking them by surprise.

 

He could smell the metallic stench of the brunette’s blood.

 

This was what happened when he allowed himself to be distracted. This was what happened when he wasn’t good enough. One of his shinobi got hurt – no. He  _ let  _ him get hurt. 

 

Gaara threw himself back into the battle, and together with Yashamaru and the tall one it didn’t take long until their enemies fled – those who weren’t unconscious or too injured to run.

 

Or dead. 

 

Gaara didn’t know how to feel about the fact that none of them had died by his hand. While he was a shinobi – a former kage even – and had no qualms about killing openly hostile enemy shinobi, he still tried to avoid it if possible. 

 

Especially with Shukaku being as enthusiastic about bloodshed as he was at the moment.

 

Because of this, Gaara felt nothing but resignation when Rasa addressed him after Yashamaru had finished tending to the brunette’s injury.

 

“The ones who fled aren’t worth our time. Kill those that are left and we will keep going.” 

 

He looked straight at Gaara, so there was no doubt who the command was meant for. 

 

Gaara pressed his lips together in reluctance. There was no choice. He summoned his sand to finish off the survivors as quickly and painlessly as he could, trying to ignore Shukaku and the brunette alike.

 

Noise in his ears, eyes on his back.

 

He prepared to strike when a whirring sound cut through the air. Faster than his eyes could follow kunai impaled the shinobi, killing all of them simultaneously.

 

Yashamaru’s expression didn’t change in the slightest as he addressed Rasa. “Shall we?”

 

The brunette squirmed in the silence that followed, and Gaara watched with wide eyes as Rasa stared down his uncle.

 

Or tried to.

 

In the end Rasa jerked his head, signaling to them to head off. 

 

If possible, the rest of the trip was filled with even more tension, but Gaara didn’t care. He kept stealing glances at his uncle, and even managed to ignore Shukaku on their way back. 

 

His uncle’s attitude towards Rasa, his actions that bordered on insubordination – he wasn’t sure what to think of it. It was new. He couldn’t remember anything like it from Before.

 

And fine, he couldn’t deny it anymore: It made him feel gleeful and fuzzy to see someone (and Yashamaru in particular) facing off Rasa like this. Defying him over  _ Gaara. _

 

Then again, he couldn’t help worrying about the consequences, too. Going by the way Rasa – collected, emotionlessly neutral Rasa – was frowning, it could only mean he was seething inside. 

 

It was a relief to spot Suna’s borders, and even more so to step into the shadows thrown by the village gate – Gaara’s head was killing him, and he wanted nothing more but to hide away in his room and rest.

 

It wasn’t a surprise to have guards stand by to welcome them – the vast desert landscape made it easy to notice them from a distance.

 

It was, however, a surprise to have someone else awaiting them. Or rather, two certain someones.

 

“H-Hello Father! Yashamaru. G-Gaara. How was your trip?”

 

Yashamaru smiled at his niece, and it was easy to forget anything bad had happened on their mission. “Quite nice, Temari-sama. But it’s even greater to see you again. And you, Kankurō-sama.”

 

Kankurō lurked somewhat behind Temari, wearing one of his by now familiar scowls. 

 

“Yashamaru,” Rasa said, destroying the moment. “A word.”

 

Yashamaru gave a curt nod, then turned back to Gaara’s siblings, a half-hidden smile on his face. “I believe your brother has something for you.” He left, following Rasa towards the Kage’s residence. 

 

Gaara didn’t have much time to worry, because at Yashamaru’s words Kankurō’s scowl had considerably softened, while Temari didn’t even try to hide her curiosity. 

 

Gaara took the package from his side, and his heart leaped as he saw Temari wearing the pouch he had brought on his last mission. He hoped Kankurō had kept the tool belt for his workshop. 

 

On the mission before that he had brought pressed flowers – a special sight for two children who had never left their desert home before. Stopping for those had brought him some particularly odd looks at the time – but if the demon container wanted a break to pick up souvenirs, who was going to stop him?

 

And this time…

 

“Are those… sweets?” Kankurō failed endearingly at sounding grumpy, being way too excited about the foreign looking treats.

 

“Specialties from the villages we’ve been to,” Gaara said.

 

“Chestnuts!” Temari had opened her own package, looking at the content with delight. Sweet chestnuts were her favorite.

 

Never before had his siblings welcomed him home after his missions. He didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

 

The brunette had left with Rasa and Yashamaru, taking the weight of his gaze with him, and Shukaku’s roars were silenced with one glance at his siblings’ bright expressions.

 

As Gaara was dragged into Temari’s room with both his siblings (figuratively – he didn’t think they were quite at that point) to try the sweets he’s brought them, the stress of his mission wasn’t nearly enough to dim the happiness burning in his chest.

 

* * *

 

Yashamaru followed his kage, the thud of his office door falling shut cutting through the thick, uncomfortable silence.

 

Nagaaki was close behind. Yashamaru wished the Kazekage would dismiss him, allowing him to leave and get someone to look at his wounds properly.

 

It was silent; Yashamaru knew it would be out of turn for him to speak first, so he had no choice but to wait. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his face stoic.

 

“You’ve noticed how Gaara has changed.” 

 

It wasn’t a question – and definitely not the topic Yashamaru had expected. 

 

He took a moment, sorting his thoughts carefully. “He has better control over the demon. There’ve been no break-outs for a while, no deaths. You wouldn’t have decided to bring him on missions otherwise.”

 

“You don’t approve of that.”

 

Again, it wasn’t a question. A heartbeat passed. “Gaara is still a child. He has no experience, and his slip up today could have endangered the mission.” And Gaara himself, as well as his shinobi. “He isn’t ready.”

 

His kage’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. “You’re right. He has much more to learn. But he is strong enough to grow into his role quickly, and his lack of experience is easy to solve.”

 

Years as an ANBU stopped Yashamaru from outright scowling. That wasn’t what he had meant. “I wasn’t talking about strength. He is too young to be sent into battle. Too young to be expected to kill people.”

 

The Kazekage’s brows furrowed, making it known that he was moving into dangerous territory. “Gaara is Suna’s jinchūriki. His purpose is to serve the village. I can’t afford to have you coddle him like some civilian –  _ Suna  _ can’t afford it.”

 

Anger coursed through him in ice cold waves, cracks beginning to form in his emotionless facade. “Gaara is  _ seven. _ That is extreme, even for shinobi standards.”

 

He knew about the practice of jinchūriki serving as their kage’s bodyguard – of course he did. But Gaara was so young. He didn’t have much of a childhood to begin with, and just when he’d started to build himself something happier…

 

He had watched his nephew in astonishment these last few weeks, and in particular since their conversation about the demon –  _ Shukaku.  _

 

Yashamaru had doubted him at first – how could he not? – had for one heart stopping moment thought Temari had paid the price for his carelessness, for his silence. But no; it seemed like Gaara had genuinely learned to control it. Had learned to live with the unimaginable burden his father had put on him.

 

Not only that: He had started to bond with his siblings, seemed happier than he had been in years, maybe in his whole life.

 

And then the Kazekage had insisted on taking him away. Away from his siblings, straight into battle. 

 

Gaara was so  _ young. _

 

Not that the Kazekage seemed to care. His village was so much more important than his son. 

 

“You’re forgetting your place.” 

 

But Yashamaru couldn’t bear it. All he could think of was Gaara’s devastated expression as his own kunai were aimed at him, threatening to harm him under false suspicion.

 

His panic at the prospect of having his father know about Shukaku. 

 

His hesitant, far too rare smile as Temari and Kankurō allowed him into their lives, bit by bit.

 

Of his sister as she died, loving eyes not wavering from her youngest son.

 

“Today proved that he isn’t ready. Had I not intervened, he could have been seriously hurt.”

 

“That is your sentimentality speaking. Nothing has ever breached Gaara’s sand defence, he would have been fine.”

 

“You don’t know that. Only because we haven’t seen his limits so far, doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

 

“You’ve gotten too attached. It’s blinding you.”

 

But Yashamaru didn’t care. “You’re hurting him. You’re hurting your son and you can’t even see it. As Karura’s brother and Gaara’s uncle, I can’t stay silent on this anymore. She wouldn’t stand for this.”

 

The Kazekage froze. 

 

Yashamaru had gone too far. 

 

His next words were close to a whisper, and yet impossible to miss. “And as my subordinate, you will remember your position.”

 

They kept eye contact, both of them refusing to budge. 

 

But in the end, he was still his kage’s shinobi. 

 

Yashamaru looked away.

 

“You’re implying that I don’t care about my son.”

 

He didn’t deny it. He couldn’t.

 

“I would love to think about my children first, but I have a whole village to care for. You know everything about Suna’s current position. War could break out at any moment. Do you honestly think I enjoy having our greatest tactical advantage be my son?”

 

Rasa paused, pressing his lips together in a rare sign of emotion. There was a pause where he let himself sink into his office chair. Neither Yashamaru nor Nagaaki dared to speak.

 

Finally...

 

“This topic is over. Dismissed.”

 

For the good of the village or not, Karura would never have wanted this for her son. He felt like a failure.

 

Outside the door, Nagaaki took a deep breath, as if the air in the office had been too thick to breathe. Yashamaru couldn’t blame him.

 

He struggled to find words, still caught up in a whirlwind of emotions. “Find someone to treat your injuries.” He would have done it himself, but healing required a level of concentration and precision he wasn’t sure he could summon at the moment.

 

Nagaaki didn’t move. 

 

“What is it?” Yashamaru frowned, noting the shinobi’s nervous shuffling. He couldn’t seem to look into Yashamaru’s eyes.

 

“...I-It’s about Gaara-sama… He, I mean.” He took a breath, still avoiding his gaze. “Gaara-sama saved my life.”

 

That lured a smile on Yashamaru’s face. “He did, didn’t he?”

 

A hesitant frown, thoughtful. “He’s changed.”

 

Yashamaru paused. “He learned not to let the demon control him,” he allowed. 

 

It was silent, and Yashamaru didn’t think Nagaaki would say anything else. Just when they reached the infirmary Nagaaki paused, the door half-open. “Please. P-Pass on my gratitude to Gaara-sama?”

 

Time slowed for a second and Yashamaru’s eyes widened. He had been the only one to try and understand his nephew for so long. The first to look further than the demon sealed inside him. 

 

“Of course.”

 

Nagaaki left with a last, timid glance, and the door fell shut behind him.

 

Yashamaru had to take a moment to compose himself. Something behind his eyes prickled suspiciously as he continued down the sunlit hallway.

 

* * *

 

Okuma is small and green, its houses built on terraced fields and trees cushioned into every niche and corner of the village. Creeks splash cheerfully all around and the air is fresh. Even the rooftops are covered in moss. It reminds him of a garden.

 

It doesn’t surprise him that his friend (teacher comrade  _ brother _ ) chose this particular place: It couldn’t be more different from Iwa if it tried. Iwa, with its rocky mountains and rocky houses, tall and dull and suffocating. The only thing gray in Okuma is the sky. He hopes for rain, the fresh scent of petrichor and soothing quiet that it brings.

 

He has to duck to enter the village’s only tavern, and all eyes – all three pairs of them, excluding the dozing barmaid – focus on him. One of them loses interest immediately – she wavers dangerously in her seat, and Han doubts she took a proper look – another one’s eyes are glued to him. Han is used to being stared at; he knows he’s intimidating. 

 

In the center, Rōshi is waiting.

 

“So the old man hasn’t managed to lure you back into his clutches either, huh?” His laugh thunders across the room, making Han smile lighter than he had in a long time. Rōshi pushes a tankard towards him, still grinning even as his voice loses the cheerful tone. “Are you alone?”

 

Han takes a moment to settle, sipping his drink – sweet, plum-flavored umeshu; Rōshi remembered – and nods. “I was cautious.” His gaze flickers to the other patrons, and he raises a pointed brow. “Are you?”

 

“Do you have to ask?”

 

Han waits.

 

The air fills with Rōshi’s laughter, and he takes a swing out of his own cup. “You haven’t changed at all. One of the reasons I picked this place: The village is so secluded that no one here speaks anything but their local dialect.” 

 

Han peeks down at his drink – it’s exactly the way he likes it. “How did you manage to order?”

 

A grimace. “Don’t ask. It took a while.”

 

They allow themselves to sit in silence, taking in the years that had passed. There’s a new scar on Rōshi’s neck, nearly covered by a beard that used to be a more radiant crimson. He’s still as short as Han remembered.

 

Regretfully, they aren’t here to catch up. “We can speak freely then?”

 

“I made sure of it. Trust me.”

 

He does. He trusts Rōshi with his life. “Well then. Why am I here?”

 

Something in the way Rōshi pauses puts Han on edge. “You mean you don’t know?”

 

“Know for what reason I followed cryptic messages all the way to a village so secluded that no one will be able to overhear our conversation?” The demon inside him coils, sensing its jailer's tension despite his collected exterior. Something is wrong.

 

Rōshi drags his hand over his face, a nervous gesture that does nothing to calm Han’s nerves. “I take it you haven’t been followed then, lately.”

 

A beat. “You have?”

 

Rōshi curses – loudly – causing the other patrons to stare. They didn’t need to know the language to understand its meaning. “This was a mistake.” He jerks up, abandoning his drink. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you here.”

 

It takes Han several heartbeats to catch on and hurry after his friend. “Calm down, will you?”

 

“I thought we’d be safer together. If they weren’t onto you before, they might be now.”

 

“Do you know who ‘they’ are?”

 

“You heard what happened to the Kumo girl.”

 

He had. 

 

“Maybe it’s not too late for you.” Rōshi swings open the tavern door. “Leave the village, we’ll take different directions and perhaps-” 

 

Rōshi cuts off at the sound of ninja wire snapping and ducks. Han is not far behind him, already feeling the tingling of his Boil Release, and he can feel the temperature rising as Rōshi prepares his lava-

 

In front of them, a note is dangling from the ninja wire. Nobody moves.

 

They wait, sharing a glance, then stand. 

 

The note reads instructions to a location and two words.

 

“Well.” Rōshi’s cheerful tone doesn’t fool Han. “How about that? Looks like we have a date.”

 

Han doesn’t bother to answer, eyes focused on the paper.

 

_ Let’s talk. _

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: ~~Hush I know that seven isn’t actually that extreme and there’s been younger shinobi but let’s all pretend this world is reasonable alright cool~~
> 
> What’s this? A Gaara scene that actually ends on a positive note? Let’s be real, with everything I’ve been throwing at him lately he deserved it. ^^ You’re welcome!
> 
> Thoughts on the fighting scene? Gaara and his siblings? Han and Rōshi’s meeting? Or anything else that comes to mind, comments are what keeps me going~
> 
> Beta’d by the wonderful **PyrothTenka, Igornerd, To Mockingbird** and **Monster Cat Music Girl**! Go check them out if you haven’t already! Go! Right now! :P
> 
> See you next time, and please leave a comment!
> 
> ~Gwen
> 
> **PS: You can go to my[tumblr page](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com/my_stories) to check when the next update is gonna happen!**


	15. Chapter 15

Following his outing at the river bank, Shikamaru started to notice a gradual shift in Aiko’s behavior towards him. It wasn’t like he’d expected her to jump him at the first opportunity, but the steady change managed to be far more unnerving than any direct confrontation could have been. 

 

He noticed immediately that Aiko paid more attention to him in class. She practically had an eye on him at all times – be it during target practice, sparing or stealth exercises – and jumped in willingly to “help” him and give pointers. 

 

She adjusted his stance half a dozen times without showing a hint of frustration.

 

She never once grew irritated, no matter how often he pretended to sleep in class.

 

At one point he decided to find out how many times he could purposely mess up the trap he was supposed to build, and yet she still did not lose her patience.

 

What scared Shikamaru the most was that nothing Aiko did seemed out of place. She never neglected the other students, and at no point was it obvious that she favored Shikamaru in any way. If he wasn’t actively looking for it, Shikamaru might not have noticed anything amiss.

 

Things started to get personal after another few days.

 

“Shikamaru.” 

 

He looked up from his slouched position at his desk, wishing he could simply go to sleep the way he had done as a child. And why couldn’t Iruka spend his time grading test papers a bit closer? Aiko was more likely to leave him alone when another adult was present.

 

“Are you alright?” Aiko stood next to him, looking over his diagram of an explosive seal as if she’d wandered up to him by coincidence. Yeah, right.

 

“Sure.” In fact, besides the annoyingly graphic images of his most recent nightmare flashing before his eyes, he had never been better. They’d been particularly bad last night, and apparently it showed.

 

Aiko raised a doubtful eyebrow. These had gotten more frequent as well: Little, private signs of emotion, of concern, designed to make Aiko seem more genuine. To build up trust.

 

Aiko was good at her job. Shikamaru had to give her that.

 

“You can take a break if you don’t feel well.” With that she walked off, moving on to the next student and keeping up the facade for everybody except Shikamaru.

 

He had not much doubt about her loyalties left at this point. Every sign pointed in the same direction, pointed towards the rotten and shady bowels of Root spreading in Konoha’s underbelly. He had kept his mind open at first, had even considered ANBU for a while, but he liked to think that his father was not quite at the level where he would try to manipulate his own son.

 

But one remark stood out to him in particular, well into the second week of Aiko changing her approach to him. Iruka had decided to split up the lesson again – he was doing so more and more often, taking advantage of the second instructor and investing more time in every individual student – and unfortunately for Shikamaru, he had been assigned Aiko’s group.

 

“Your talent is wasted here. There has to be other options…” She picked up the lesson after that, trailing off as if in deep thought.

 

Shikamaru braced himself for whatever was to come during the next few days.

 

But the academy was not alone in its intent to make his life difficult. With Aiko pushing his mental defences up to their limits and his parents keeping attentive eyes on him at home, he had to spend a big chunk of his days on edge. And playing mind games with both a Root agent and a jōnin commander was exhausting. 

 

It got to the point where he started to dread the usual outings with his, Chōji’s and Ino’s families. While it meant more time with his friends, it also put him in close company with several career shinobi. 

 

And apparently even that was not stressful enough.

 

Shikamaru was on his way to a BBQ place with his mother (it had been the Akimichi’s turn to choose), who was still fuming about his father being held up at work. His promise to meet up with them later had, unsurprisingly, done fairly little to appease her irritation.

 

It was then, halfway to the restaurant, that Shikamaru spotted one particular person for the first time since coming back. He slowed his steps, watching as Itachi and Sasuke walked by on the other side of the street. 

  
His mother noticed his hesitation. “Is something wrong?”

 

“Huh? Oh, nothing. I just recognized someone from class.” He didn’t take his eyes off Itachi.

 

“Oh?” She followed his gaze. “Ah, you mean Sasuke? He’s a sweet boy. I used to be friends with his mother, Mikoto.”

 

“Really?” Shikamaru hadn’t known that. “What happened?” His mother had never mentioned it in his time. He could take a guess why that was.

 

“I’m… not sure. The Uchiha, they…” His mother paused. She continued in a small, nearly subdued tone of voice. “I’m afraid they’ve been keeping to themselves for quite a while.” Unsurprisingly, she didn’t elaborate. 

 

Shikamaru kept watching as Sasuke bounced impatiently next to his brother, from the looks of it telling a story. He was more expressive than Shikamaru had ever seen him. 

 

Even so, he had a hard time looking anywhere but Itachi. Itachi, who was smiling with such open fondness, listening to his brother. Shikamaru felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He looked so  _ young. _

 

For him, Uchiha Itachi had never been anyone but the mass murderer turned missing nin that had slaughtered his entire clan. It was the image he had grown up with, and in contrast to Naruto and Sasuke, he had never meet Itachi personally. He had never witnessed his so called “redemption” – though he had heard the stories from both of his friends, neither of whom had ever managed to convince him. Itachi had still killed those people, no matter the circumstances.

 

Shikamaru had never fully realized that he had been 13 at the time. 

 

Even as the brothers vanished around a corner, the reminder of the massacre lingered. One of his ripple-wounds itched.

 

Shikamaru closed his eyes, willing his headache and his nightmares to fade. And they hadn’t even started the family outing yet.

 

* * *

 

No matter what her father said, Ino was not pouting. Really, she wasn’t! She was simply convinced that there were better ways to spend her day than on a dinner date with her dad and his friends. Well, and hers, she supposed.

 

She just didn’t see the point of being dragged along each and every time. It wasn’t that spending time with Shikamaru and Chōji was the worst she could be doing – they’ve known each other their entire lives, they were practically honorary cousins at this point – but she could also be spending time with Sakura right now. The boys simply could not compete with her best friend.

 

Besides, something was going on with Chōji. He’d been restless ever since arriving at the restaurant, fidgeting and shooting Ino glances only to look away just as quickly. Ino frowned, her mood dropping another few beats.

 

Did she have to take care of everything herself?

 

“Come on,” she said, dragging Chōji along at his arm and ignoring his wide-eyed expression. To the adults she declared: “This is secret. No parents allowed.”

 

Her father raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. His indulgent smile showed that he thought they were only fooling around. Success.

 

As soon as they were out of earshot she stopped, crossing her arms and facing Chōji with a scowl. “Alright. Spit it out.”

 

“W-What?”

 

“You looked like you were sitting on coals in there. If you want to get something off your chest, do it now.” And maybe then he would go back to his usual cheerful self and stop bothering her with his troubled expression. It didn’t suit him.

 

Chōji chewed on his lip, for some reason still hesitating. Ino was about to  _ encourage  _ him (with a well crafted glare and a few more sharp remarks), when he burst out with it himself. “Don’t you think Shikamaru has been acting really weird lately?”

 

That made her pause, her glare somewhat softening in confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

“It’s just, you know.” Chōji didn’t look her in the eyes, his voice muffled even though no one was around to overhear. “Remember that one sparing lesson? Where he freaked out so badly? And all those times where he completely zones out, and he’s so jumpy and tired all the time. And then there’s the thing with the chakra and–” He broke off, chewing on his lip again. 

 

Ino didn’t know what to say.  

 

She had never seen Chōji like this before. The whole thing must have been eating at him for a while. 

 

The worst part was: now that Chōji had pointed it out to her, she realized he was right. She hadn’t been paying much attention to the boys lately – not more than usually – but thinking back on it… 

 

Ino had nearly forgotten the training incident by now (she hadn’t even seen it herself, too busy cheering up Sakura after a bunch of bullies had dared to open their mouths), but everybody had gossiped about it for several days straight. She’d assumed the stories had been grossly exaggerated – the way students’ gossip tended to be – but maybe for once, they’d been right. 

 

Besides, no one knew Shikamaru better than Chōji. He thought something was wrong? Then Ino believed him.

 

She peeked over Chōji’s shoulder, making sure their parents were still engrossed in their own conversation. “So. What are you gonna do?”

 

Chōji looked up sharply. “You believe me?”

 

“Course I do. You’re his best friend.” After all, she’d immediately notice if something was off with Sakura. “Do you want to tell someone? Our parents?”

 

She waited as Chōji’s eyes slipped to the ground, frowning in a now thoughtful expression. Her father started to glimpse over. Probably wondering what was holding them.

 

“I- I don’t know,” Chōji said. “I don’t think Shikamaru would want us to.”

 

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.” 

 

“No, maybe not.” Chōji shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

 

Ino decided to make the decision for him. “Let’s wait a bit longer. Give Shikamaru a bit more time. Maybe he’ll tell you himself, when he’s ready.” 

 

Chōji hesitated, but nodded. “Y-Yeah. Alright.” His brows were furrowed, his mouth tugged down in an uneasy frown. He probably felt bad hiding something important from his parents.

 

“Look,” Ino said, trying to sound less blunt for once. “It’s probably just a phase. You’ll see, he’ll be better in no time. And if he does get worse, we’ll tell someone. Alright?”

 

“Alright.” 

 

She was rewarded with a smile and didn’t feel quite as reluctant anymore.

 

They’d finished not a second too soon, because right after they took their seats Aunt Yoshino walked in, Shikamaru trailing behind. “Excuse the delay,” she said, a scowl on her face and her husband nowhere to be seen.

  
“Let me guess,” Ino’s father grimaced in sympathy, “Shikaku got held up with work?”

 

A humorless snort. “What else is new?”

 

Aunt Yoshino joined the adults at their table, while Shikamaru slid into the booth with Ino and Chōji. “Hey guys,” he greeted, and only minutes earlier Ino would have mistaken the slur in his voice for typical Nara laziness. A closer look revealed the shadows under his eyes and the sickly pale tint of his skin.

 

How had she not noticed before? 

 

It wasn’t too obvious at first glance – not if you weren’t looking for it – but they had spent an entire afternoon together only recently. She should have picked up on something, at least.

 

By the time she managed to tear her eyes away, she had missed the beginning of the conversation. Not that she particularly cared. She’d been so blind! No wonder Chōji was worried.

 

“-isn’t that right, Ino?”

 

That dragged Ino out of her thoughts. “Huh?”

 

“Aiko-sensei. Your new teacher?” Her dad raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you mention her before?”

 

Urgh. What was it with adults and wanting to hear about school? “Right. Yeah. She’s a bit weird. Or she was, at first.”

 

“Oh?” Uncle Chōza smiled at her. “Weird how?”

 

Ino shrugged, stealing a glance at her friends. “I dunno. It’s like she didn’t really know how to teach us?”

 

“Yeah,” Chōji said. “I don’t think she knew how to talk to us. She’s still kind of quiet.”

 

“Really?” Aunt Kuniko looked at her son with a frown. “Has that changed, though? Is she teaching you properly?”

 

“Oh yeah! She got really good after a while. Right, Ino?”

 

Ino shrugged. “She’s different from Iruka-sensei. But not in a bad way.” Sakura certainly liked her. She kept going on about how cool she was, and how she finally had a role model to look up to. 

 

“A  _ female _ role model!” she had said, after Ino’d pointed out that Iruka-sensei was just as great, if not better at teaching. “Besides, Iruka-sensei’s always been an academy teacher. She must have been a fighter before!” Ino had given up after that, listening to her with fond exasperation.

 

Ino had to admit, she was at least a little interested. “Have you seen her before? She has some really bad injuries. And only one arm.”

 

“She told us she lost it during a mission,” Shikamaru chimed in, eyes focused on their parents. “Does that mean she was a combat shinobi before?”

 

Uncle Chōza and her father shared a glance. Great; that meant there was a good chance they would deem the topic ‘not kid-friendly’ and move onto something different. Ino could feel another scowl bubbling up. She hated being left out.

 

She was in luck.

  
“Not necessarily,” Uncle Chōza said, his kind voice slow as if choosing each word carefully. “Things can go wrong on all kinds of missions.”

 

Her father nodded in agreement, the corner of his mouth tugged downwards. “It could have been anything.”

 

“Does that mean you don’t actually know her?” Shikamaru asked.

 

“I’m afraid not.” Her father raised his shoulders. “She could have been stationed outside the village up until now.”

 

“And even if not,” Aunt Yoshino said, “it would be personal anyway. It’s not polite to pry.” Her voice did not leave room for objection, and the firm glare she sent towards her son would have made Ino squirm in her seat.

 

Shikamaru looked entirely unfazed. “Sorry, Mom.”

 

Ino wasn’t sure if anyone would have picked the topic back up, because Uncle Shikaku chose that moment to enter the restaurant.

 

“There still room for me?” he asked with a smirk, even as Ino’s father moved up the table. 

 

“Oh, he decided to show up,” Aunt Yoshino muttered for everybody to hear.

 

“Y-Yoshi, please. Sweetheart.” 

 

There were snickers all around the table as his wife glared daggers at Konoha’s flustered jōnin commander. Just a regular dinner for their families.

 

It was Shikamaru who broke the silence next. “We were just talking about Aiko-sensei. Do you know why she’s at the academy? It felt like she came out of nowhere.”

 

“No,” Uncle Shikaku said slowly, maybe taken aback at the choice of topic. “I’m not involved with the hiring process at the academy. Aiko-sensei, huh?”

 

“I like her,” Chōji said with a sunny smile. “She gives good advice. And she’s nice to Naruto.”

 

Aunt Kuniko choked on her food. Uncle Shikaku froze mid-motion, filling up his plate. Aunt Yoshino sat up sharply, her back rigid. Ino’s father shared a look with Uncle Chōza.

 

Within seconds the mood had shifted, and Ino was left blinking at the adults. Not that she didn’t realize that Naruto was a tricky subject, with how other people – including adults and other parents – talked about him. She didn’t even like him, personally: he was loud and too energetic and kind of weird. But weren’t they overreacting just a bit?

 

Aunt Kuniko was the first to speak, her voice clipped and just a bit too loud. “Did you say Naruto?”

 

Chōji frowned, his smile melting away. “Yeah.”

 

“We’ve been hanging out,” Shikamaru said. Ino saw the defensive tension in his shoulders. His declaration was followed by a sharp intake of breath.

  
“Mom, what’s wrong?”

 

Aunt Kuniko paused, stealing a glance at her husband. “Look, Chōji. Are you sure-”

 

“Mom,” Chōji interrupted, and Ino raised her brows in surprise. Chōji was usually so polite. “I know some parents are being weird about him. But you never said anything about him before...”

 

“I- I know. It’s just...” She trailed off, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “I’m sure you have other friends to play with.”

 

Ino felt the corner of her mouth twitching downwards. She wasn’t fond of Naruto, but she knew Chōji and Shikamaru were. And this? This seemed off. 

 

She took a look around the table, at the other adults. Uncle Chōza was chewing on his lips as if he wanted to jump in and say something. Her father was looking away, fidgeting restlessly. The silence was starting to press down on them, oppressive and heavy. 

 

“Mom, I’m- I’m not-” Chōji cut himself off, sounding unsure of himself.

 

“Naruto is our friend.” Shikamaru hadn’t raised his voice, but his matter-of-fact tone did not leave room to protest.

 

Aunt Kuniko looked like she might want to try anyway. She didn’t look angry: she seemed worried, more than anything. “Chōza…” 

 

Uncle Chōza hesitated, looking at his son. Their eyes met, and he must have seen  _ something _ , because he took his wife’s hand with a reassuring smile. “I don’t think this is our decision to make, dear.”

 

Aunt Kuniko didn’t look convinced, glancing at the other adults. Her father looked like he wanted to speak up, and Ino could hear herself saying, “He’s not that bad, you know.”

 

She shrugged carelessly, but she could feel her cheeks heating up as Chōji sent her a thankful look, Shikamaru’s smile near indiscernible. Her father huffed a sigh but looked content to leave it at that.

 

“So,” Aunt Yoshino said, oddly carefully. Her smile looked a bit stiff, but next to her Uncle Shikaku looked at his wife with fond eyes. “You said you spent time with him?”

 

The tension loosened as Chōji talked about their day with Naruto and Sakura. True to his word, he left out that it had ended with Shikamaru using his chakra, and although she kept chiming in with comments herself (Chōji just wasn’t telling it right!), Ino followed suit. 

 

The topic moved on, and it didn’t take long for it to feel like any other family dinner. Other shinobi came and went, greeting their parents and staying for short conversations themselves; by now their families were regulars at the restaurant. 

 

Eventually Aunt Yoshino and Aunt Kuniko decided to leave and offered to take Ino home on their way. She declined; both Chōji and Shikamaru were staying, and she was already there, so she might as well stay till the end. 

 

Besides, their fathers were on their third round of drinks. Staying meant the chance to see them drunk, and that was always fun.

 

Aunt Yoshino seemed to have read her mind. She sighed, staring down her husband and his team. “At least try not to overdo it.”

 

“Sure thing!” her father said, raising his glass cheerfully. It spoke volumes about his alcohol level that he didn’t cringe at the seething glare Aunt Yoshino sent him.

 

Maybe she should have gone home after all. Was it worth the risk of her father acting embarrassing in front of her friends? Then again, it wouldn't be the first time, and it wasn't like their fathers were any better.

 

Besides, at the moment they were too busy acting like boring adults to be any fun.

 

“You know,” her father said, leaning closer towards his old teammates, “Jiraiya’s reports have gotten quite interesting lately.”

 

Shikamaru knocked over his glass and Ino leaped up, scowling at her dripping sleeve. “Shikamaru!”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Shikamaru said, already reaching over the table to clean up his mess. What was it with him, lately?!

 

Uncle Shikaku drawled a careless “Inoichi, please,” holding out napkins for Ino. “Do you really want to talk about work, of all things?”

 

There was something in his voice that Ino couldn't place.

 

Uncle Chōza steered the conversation towards the three’s time as Ino-Shika-Cho trio, and half an hour and two more stories later Ino was glad that she had stayed after all.

 

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My betas are Igornerd, To Mockingbird and PyrothTenka! Go check them out, they’re all wonderful writers!
> 
> Check my [tumblr page](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com/my_stories) for the next update, or just to come and say hi!
> 
> ~Gwen
> 
> PS: Any Marvel fans here? Cause let's just say I've been in a writing frenzy ever since infinity war and may or may not have one or two ~~or several~~ new stories on the way!


	16. Chapter 16

They made no effort to hide themselves. 

 

Gaara didn’t need to recognize the chakra signatures to know they were in trouble, and he froze in his steps before their silhouettes were visible through the trees surrounding them.

 

“Father,” he said, and nearly choked on the word. “We need to leave.”

 

But Rasa wasn’t listening. He too had noticed the abnormal chakra beacon in front of them and ordered his shinobi to halt with a hand gesture. Of course, it was  _ this _ mission that Yashamaru had to sit out. As one of their best chakra sensors, he might have been able to give them an earlier warning.

 

As it was, it took seconds for them to catch a glimpse of their opponents, who seemed entirely comfortable with facing them head-on.

 

They didn’t need an ambush.

 

“Who are you? And what do you want?” Rasa said, a demand more than a question. 

 

“Don’t worry. We don’t want anything from you.” The man was tall, towering over Rasa, and an abnormally large sword slung over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. His voice was pleasant, belied by his mocking words. “Give us the jinchūriki, and you might even get to leave.”

 

“Who are you?” Grains of sand danced around Rasa’s fists. 

 

“Ah, of course. Apologies.” His mouth twisted into a smile, showing shark-like teeth. “I wouldn’t want to make a bad impression before we get started. I’m Hoshigaki Kisame.”

 

One of their shinobi, his long hair pulled back in a braid, gasped. “The Monster of the Hidden Mist!”

 

“Kisame,” his partner growled, a stark contrast to the swordsman. While Kisame was close to two meters tall, he cowered next to him, looking like he stood on all fours. “Stop messing around.”

 

“Father.” Gaara tried again. “We can’t fight them.”

 

Rasa didn’t answer but stole a glance to the other four shinobi with them. Jōnin, all of them, but even without knowing Akatsuki, he had to realize that they were little more than deadweight against their opponents.

 

But what were they doing here? It was too early, far too early. Confronting him like this, in front of the eyes of his kage? They must have had a good reason. 

 

“Sasori, always so impatient. Just enjoy the fight. You’re the one with an actual challenge.” With that he turned to Gaara, taking the sword from his shoulder.

 

Sasori ripped off his cloak, revealing the ugly, gray-skinned puppet underneath. “Whatever. Let’s finish this quickly.” The puppet’s mouth opened and senbon launched their way, hundreds of them in a gleaming cloud of needles.

 

A wall of sand rose to block them, building up a barricade between them and their opponents. Rasa must have been grinding it below the surface. His attention didn’t waver, not looking back even as he addressed his jinchūriki. 

 

“Gaara, listen closely.” Rasa’s expression was grim, and he looked like he was thinking quickly. “Suna is southwest from here. You know how you can find the way.”

 

What? “Father-”

 

“Try to reach the desert as quickly as you can. The terrain may give you an advantage. Don’t stop, just keep heading towards Suna.” Not once did his eyes waver from the barricade.

 

Gaara knew what Rasa was doing. He was trying to stay behind, trying to give Gaara a chance to escape. It was Gaara’s job to protect the Kazekage, and yet Rasa tried to make him run away, because he thought that Gaara didn’t stand a chance. The only one who might be able to fend them off for a while was himself. 

 

It was logical, and yet…

 

Gaara’s throat closed up. 

 

The wall of sand split open, scattering dust everywhere and revealing Kisame with his sword drawn. The ground had cracked with the impact. “Sasori, did you really expect it to be that easy? That would have been disappointing.” He straightened up, still smirking.

 

“Gaara. Now!” The mass of sand moved on Rasa’s command, sweeping up both Akatsuki members.

 

To his own surprise, Gaara obeyed.

 

* * *

 

Rasa could feel the sweat on his forehead, his muscles feeling tense enough to snap. 

 

It had been a long while since he’d found himself a situation quite as dire as this. As stressful as taking care of Suna could be, most of the time the strain he was under was limited to his political duties, not comparable to an open fight. The closest he could get were his training sessions with Gaara.

 

And the worst part: Rasa didn’t know if he could win.

 

His wave of sand burst open as his opponents freed themselves. 

 

Kisame – because apparently that was who they were up against, the Tailed Beast without a Tail – sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to face you myself.” With that his eyes slipped to Gaara.

 

Gaara, who had finally obeyed his command and fled on his sand cloud, and oh no, Kisame would  _ not.  _ A sand whip stopped Kisame in his tracks, forcing him to block with his sword. Rasa called the grains back to him, ready to strike. “I’m your opponent.”

 

“Nothing I can do. We have our orders.” The freak actually sounded apologetic. “Besides, you’ll have a hard enough time with Sasori here.”

 

That name again. A puppeteer named Sasori. Rasa felt a chill. “Is that supposed to intimidate me?” If he could stall them for longer, maybe there was a chance.

 

“Intimidation alone doesn’t win fights.” Kisame shifted his sword as if he was itching to use it.

  
“Stop fooling around,” Sasori growled. “I don’t want to waste more time on this than I have to.”

 

Kisame shrugged, careless of his partner’s hostility. “Go ahead then. Or do you plan to fight with that thing?”

 

“No,” Sasori said, and something in his voice put Rasa on edge. “Allow me to use my trump, first.” 

 

Rasa tensed, expecting him to jump out of the trees from where he was controlling his puppet. Instead the monstrosity opened, and did that mean he had been  _ inside _ all along? He had never seen a puppet being used like that before. 

 

“It really is you then,” he said as the figure inside straightened up. Hair, bright and as red as Gaara’s, features young, far too young for the man they belonged to. “Sasori of the Red Sand. You shouldn’t be alive.”

 

“You’re wrong.” Sasori smiled with a face oddly void of emotion. “I am eternal.”

 

* * *

 

The forest around him was a blur of green, Gaara’s sand carrying him at a dizzying speed. He urged it to go faster. 

 

He knew he couldn’t outrun them forever. Akatsuki wanted to capture him, and at his current level he didn’t stand a chance to escape. But that wasn’t the plan. If he managed to get enough distance between Rasa and his shinobi, maybe he could save them. Kisame and Sasori wanted  _ him _ , not the Kazekage and definitely none of his no-name shinobi. 

 

Maybe, just maybe he could get enough distance between them by the time they decided to follow, hopefully before any of them got hurt too badly.

 

Gaara swallowed the anxiety in his throat and kept going.

 

* * *

 

Rasa’s mouth was dry. He stared at the scene unfolding in front of him. Beside him, his shinobi had gone utterly silent. He could practically feel the horror reeling off of them. 

 

“What’s with those faces? Are you surprised?” Sasori was still smiling that unfeeling smile of his.

 

Rasa had to swallow against the nausea. From the corner of his eye, he could see one of his shinobi, Himeko, trembling. Her voice betrayed that is was in fury. “T-The Third Kazekage… How can you... How  _ dare  _ you—”

 

Sasori chuckled softly. Everything about him seemed soft, now that his shell was stripped away. His voice, as well as his childish features. And yet he was wielding a corpse as his weapon. “What are you going to do about it? Do you want to avenge him?”

 

Himeko charged with a cry of anger. Rasa cursed her recklessness, even as he itched to tear him to pieces himself. 

 

Compartments opened from the puppet’s arms and Rasa dragged Himeko away with his sand before the weapons could slice her. Most of them would be coated in poison, so a single prick could prove fatal. 

 

He spotted Kisame leaping through the tree branches. Rasa ground more sand, pulling it up before him and blocking his path. 

 

Kisame wasn’t smiling anymore. “You know, you’re really starting to annoy me.” He drew his sword to slice an opening, and Rasa yanked it back with a hand gesture, dragging Kisame with it.

 

There was movement from the corner of his eye. He threw up a shield before Sasori’s weapons could hit. Hundreds of puppet arms had unfastened and protruded from the Third’s body, wielding various kinds of weapons. 

 

Rasa could tell when he was outmatched. He wouldn’t last long against both of them.

 

“Kisame,” Sasori said, and despite his emotionless face and childish voice, the impatience was clear. “Go after the brat already. Hurry it up.”

 

Kisame was not impressed. “There’s no rush. I’ll catch up to him eventually, don’t worry.”

 

“Don’t make me wait. I’ll finish this.”

 

Rasa tensed at that, preparing for another attack. The puppet’s mouth opened, distorting the Third Kazekage’s face even more. 

 

Noritoshi sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s Suna’s most feared technique. The Third Kazekage’s iron sand!”

 

He was right. Black sand crept out of the puppet in thick veils, winding like snakes and collecting in a dark cloud. In between his disgust, Rasa felt reluctant admiration. Sasori was a monster, but he was a master at his art. Creating puppets out of humans was insanely difficult, and one that could use the technique of its host was unheard of. It was breathtaking.

 

Rasa’s mouth curled in distaste. It was also repulsive. “If this is your trump, you’ve forgotten one thing.”

 

“Oh? And what is that?”

 

“Gold is denser than iron.”

 

A wave of gold crashed into the puppet as Rasa pulled it out of the ground, pushing it back before Sasori could counter with his iron. Dark rings formed around Rasa’s eyes, signaling the use of his favored technique. Gold and black fought against each other in a mass of sand, kage against kage.

 

“Sir!” Noritoshi yelled from behind, and Rasa suppressed a curse, seeing Kisame swipe away two of his shinobi.

 

Kisame rammed his sword down, cracking open the ground and making the battlefield shake. He took off again, into the direction Gaara had disappeared into.

 

Rasa tried to block him, but Kisame had learned from last time. He carved open a path mid-jump, and in his distraction Rasa was rushed by the iron sand. He leaped out of the way, barely dodging a stray tendril. 

 

“Go after him!” he yelled, and the order tasted foul in his mouth. He was getting desperate, sending out clearly outclassed shinobi against that monster. 

 

Sasori renewed his attacks and Rasa didn’t have time for regret. He threw himself into the battle, knowing that his son’s life depended on it.

 

* * *

 

The fighting noises had long since faded, but Gaara didn’t dare to slow down. He knew they would go after him eventually, and he could only hope it would be before they killed anyone else. He knew that Akatsuki had no interest in killing the Kazekage – but they also did not care for preventing it.

 

The trees were slowing him down, forcing him to dodge instead of going in a straight line. He considered rising above them, but decided it wouldn’t be worth to expose himself.

 

Despite Rasa’s orders, he wasn’t heading towards Suna. Rasa thought that he would be safe as long as he reached the village, but Gaara knew better. Back in his first life, Deidara had confronted him right in the middle of Suna, had beaten him and escaped, taking Gaara with him. The village borders would not stop them, and leading them there would only endanger his citizens.

 

But what was he supposed to do instead?

  
Anxiety was fluttering in Gaara’s chest, and guilt pressed down on his gut. He was afraid for his shinobi, and yes, even for Rasa. How he wished to be able to help them, how he wished to face all of Akatsuki by himself, if he had to.

 

But this body was weak. His chakra supply was lower than it had ever been in his life, still cut off from Shukaku.

 

Fleeing and hopefully luring away Akatsuki from the others was his only option, he knew it was. But the guilt was gnawing at him, naming him a coward. How dare he run away when his shinobi were fighting for their lives.

 

_ Shukaku, please. _

 

It wasn’t the first time he was asking, begging for him to listen. 

 

_ We’re under attack. My people are in danger. Please! _

 

A growl was his answer, and Gaara didn’t know if Shukaku had even understood. That damned seal. 

 

He could hear water rushing somewhere before him, steadily growing louder. There must be a river ahead. He didn’t know its name, didn’t even know where he was, to where he’d run off to. 

 

Wait. Water... 

 

Gaara came to a halt as Kisame leaped out from the river and landed in front of him. It was bigger than he thought, broad and its current wild and fast. Kisame had used the water to his advantage to catch up to him.

 

“Sorry,” he said, sounding casual like they were making smalltalk. “This is as far as you go.”

 

Would stalling work? Kisame didn’t look like he was in a hurry. “What do you want?” His voice was soft, just loud enough to be audible over the river current.

 

“Kid, I’m just following orders. Where’s the fun in fighting children? But you see,” he lunged forward without warning, his sword blocked by his sand as Gaara leaped back. He watched in alarm as it poured to the ground lifelessly, all of its chakra sucked out. Kisame grinned. “I’m the most skilled at capturing targets alive. And orders are orders.”

 

He charged again, too fast to dodge. Gaara had to block with his sand again, and promptly lost the new chakra he had pumped into it. With his sword Kisame could drain targets of their chakra and make them defenseless, which made it easy to take them in without actually killing them. 

  
And while Gaara’s sand was special and could protect him without conscious thought, it still used his chakra to do so. Kisame wasn’t exaggerating; he was perfect for his job.

 

But if he thought Gaara was going down without a fight, he was wrong.

 

He dropped to his knees, hands flat on the ground and pushed, turning the patch of earth into sand. With nothing to hold onto Kisame stumbled, and Gaara hopped back on his cloud, taking the opportunity to launch into the air.

 

Kisame would try to tire him out through pure chakra drain, so his best bet was to stay out of range.

 

He rushed past the tree canopy when Kisame soared into the air, propelled by a jet of water. He slammed down his sword, forcing Gaara to block. The blow was enough to throw him back to the ground, even though the sword didn’t touch him. His sand cushioned his fall but Kisame was back on him, his sword drawn out.

 

He dodged one blow. Blocked another. Gaara spread out his sand, scattered it to make the sword pass through it and hurled it into Kisame’s face to blind him. Kisame cursed, taken aback. Gaara’s sand screeched as it surged towards Kisame, wrapping around Kisame’s wrist and lower arm. 

 

Gaara clenched his fist. 

 

Bone shattered with a sickening crunch, Kisame’s arm crushed in a bloody cast of sand. Gaara hurled away his sword from where it fell out of Kisame’s hand.

 

Kisame gave a grunt of pain and started to laugh. “Not bad, kid. You’re putting up a fight. I like it.” He grinned. “I’ll tell you a secret though. Eating chakra isn’t all that Samehada can do.”

 

Gaara’s eyes widened, noticing the movement too late. Before he could react the sword – Samehada – had returned to Kisame on its own. A sentient sword? How did that work?   
  


He watched as torn flesh and bone knit itself back together, undoing the damage from Gaara’s attack. 

 

“Let’s see how long you can keep it up.” Kisame’s teeth flashed and he rushed forward.

 

They exchanged blows, and Gaara could tell Kisame was taking the fight more seriously. He could feel the strain in his body and his chakra coils, both of them reaching their limits. As much as he tried to dodge, some blows were unavoidable. His fighting style was based around defense and not dodging.

 

Gaara was getting tired. Surprisingly, Shukaku was silent. There was something, some kind of emotion and Gaara tried to place it–

 

Samehada missed him by inches, nearly making him pay for his distraction.

 

“Impressive. I didn’t think you’d last this long.” Kisame’s smile felt unsettling. “Try to make it through this one. I’m starting to enjoy myself.”

 

Kisame jumped back, and that couldn’t mean anything good, he’d been so focused on staying close to Gaara so far. He braced himself, getting more distance between them.

 

He needn’t have bothered, as Kisame pulled a tidal wave out of the river. He stared up at the mass of water, gallons of it towering over him. Kisame must have used chakra to create more, because there was no way the river carried this much. It came crashing down, forcing Gaara to pump more chakra into his cloud to boost its speed. Chakra exhaustion pulled at his nerves, but he managed to escape.

 

He didn’t spot Kisame until it was too late. He was thrown off of his cloud and nearly plunged into the river, catching himself just in time. Gaara clung onto his sand, the raging current below him. The river had grown immensely through Kisame’s technique, the water wild and threatening to drag him into its depths and tear him away.

 

This was Kisame’s element, and Gaara wouldn’t be able to fight him underwater. He felt faint, chakra coils ablaze and exhaustion pulling at his senses in protest. 

 

He could feel Shukaku more clearly. Horror coiled in his gut as he recognized anticipation. The demon was waiting for Gaara to lose consciousness, for an opportunity to take over. He couldn’t allow it. 

 

Could he? Would it be that bad to let Shukaku finish the job? Kisame would certainly be thrilled to have a real opponent.

 

“Too bad. Looks like that’s as far as you can go.” Disappointment rung in Kisame’s voice. “Let go, kid. It’s too late for you now.”

 

Gaara’s arms trembled as he pushed himself up. He was at his limits. He could feel it. 

 

The sand below him wavered.

 

Kisame took a leap towards him when something coiled around his sword. Ninja wire. 

 

“Gaara-sama!”

 

The sand under his knees crumbled and Gaara plunged into the depths of the river.

 

Darkness and cold engulfed him. 

 

The current ripped at his clothes, tossing him around like a ragdoll.

 

He couldn’t move. Water and exhaustion were weighing him down.

 

He didn’t want to move.

 

**_Finally._ **

 

No.

 

**_Let go._ **

 

No! 

 

Gaara’s eyes snapped open and he flinched, freezing water entering. Blackness crept in at the edge of his vision. He couldn’t go to sleep now. Shukaku would win.

 

Growling filled his head as he crawled his way back to consciousness. How long had he been drifting, half awake? His lungs were burning chakra to keep him alive, tugging at his scarce reserves. He had to get out. How were his shinobi doing?

 

Gaara couldn’t remember how he managed to hoist himself out of the river. He just remembered walking, dripping and not knowing where he went. His thoughts felt sluggish. His sand was gone, stripped away by the river. He didn’t know where he was.

 

The voice in the back of his head reminded him to keep going. He stumbled, catching himself with one hand on the ground. It was swaying under his fingers.

 

“–you okay?”

 

Where was he?

 

“–sweetheart, where did you come from?”

 

No. No, wait…

 

Gaara lifted his head with great effort, struggling to focus on the blurry form in front of him. There was a tugging sensation in his chest. Something about the situation was bad. Why was it bad?

 

He felt excitement creeping in from the back of his mind and it was enough for a final snap back into reality. He’d stumbled into a village. A small, tiny thing, not noteworthy on most maps. 

 

Gaara was about to lose consciousness, and there were  _ people _ around. 

 

He felt terror coil around his heart, nausea making it hard to breathe.

 

“G-Get away. Y-You have to–”

 

“That’s alright, don’t worry! We’ll help you.”

 

That was the last thing Gaara wanted. He wanted them to leave. He wanted to sleep.

 

Gaara felt triumph swallow the horror in his gut and everything faded to black.

 

* * *

 

Yashamaru noticed the commotion on his way to the Kazekage’s residence. A crowd had formed around the village entrance, shinobi dashing around restless and agitated. What was going on? Had the Kazekage returned from his mission? But that wouldn’t explain the buzz of activity. 

 

His sense of foreboding grew worse the closer he got. There were injuries being treated, as small as minor scrapes and as big as a gaping head wound. The Kazekage looked exhausted, and what could possibly have happened that forced him to go this far?

 

A body was carried away, and Yashamaru’s mind went blank.

 

“S-Sir!” Noritoshi had noticed him. He looked better off than most, bloody and tired but without major injuries. 

 

“What happened?” 

 

“We were attacked. Two missing nin, Kisame of the Hidden Mist and S-Sasori. Sasori of the Red Sand.”

 

Yashamaru gaped. Questions crowded his mind, but one of them burned on his tongue painfully. “Where’s Gaara-sama?”

 

Noritoshi’s eyes slipped to the ground and Yashamaru could feel his world shatter. 

 

“Where is he?!” Why had he stayed behind? Why hadn’t he insisted on joining, why had he let Gaara out of his sight? He had told the Kazekage, he had told him taking Gaara along was a bad idea.

 

“W-We don’t know. The missing nin were after him, but we lost him during our fight.”

 

“And you didn’t look for him afterwards?!”

 

“Of course we did!” Noritoshi snapped, silencing Yashamaru. “But Himeko was dead and there were injuries, and the Kazekage was drained from keeping Sasori at bay for so long. The only reason we’re still alive is that the demon, Kisame, lost track of Gaara-sama, too.” His voice started to shake. “W-We believe Himeko distracted him long enough for us to catch up. And for Gaara-sama to escape. She paid for it.”

 

Guilt and fury churned in his stomach. Yashamaru felt nausea rising up. “Thank you. Find someone to treat you.” His voice was stiff, but it was all he could do not to scream. It wasn’t their fault. They had done all they could.

  
But it hadn’t been enough.

 

Yashamaru sat through the debriefing stone faced. He listened to each report, listened to their plans. 

 

By the time it ended he had forgotten most of it, and he hurried to corner the Kazekage before he could disappear into his office. He should be resting.

 

“Yashamaru.” His kage didn’t look surprised. Exhaustion was painted onto every inch of his face, making him look older than he was. 

 

Yashamaru didn’t talk around the subject. “I’m going after him.”

 

The Kazekage looked at him, not answering. “Do you blame me for this?” He didn’t sound angry. Just tired.

 

“I am not drawing conclusions for something I have not witnessed. I’m going after him, Sir.”

 

“You were in the meeting. We’re already making plans for retrieval missions. If you want to join–”

 

“I’m not waiting.” The guilt and anger burned. Yashamaru was beyond caring. “Don’t misunderstand. This is not a request.” 

 

He met Rasa’s glance, dropping the submitting etiquette. There was no going back from this, and Yashamaru was prepared to make that sacrifice. He had made his choice. 

 

“I will leave the village and I will find Gaara no matter the cost. I can do it under your orders or I can do it as a missing nin.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hand waves shinobi science* if shinobi can turn chakra into water they can do the same with oxygen don’t fight me on this
> 
> I've posted the first chapter of each of my Marvel stories, featuring a time travelling [Nebula and Tony](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15032681/chapters/34849343), [Loki](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15176378/chapters/35194295) and [Tony and Stephen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15299694/chapters/35495001)! If you're a fan of the movies, feel free to take a look!
> 
> Thanks to **Igornerd, To Mockingbird** and **PyrothTenka** for their wonderful help! 
> 
> Please leave a comment, and visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen


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